The Last Panther

by Todd Mitchell

  “What happened?” asked her da. “What did you do to her?” He took the Witch Woman’s place by Kiri’s side.

  “Only what I’d do for one of my own,” replied the Witch Woman.

  Kiri tried to sit up, but the effort made everything spin. At least she could feel her body now. One hand tingled with pins and needles, and her right shoulder itched terribly.

  “It might take some time for the sleeping oils to leave her system,” said the Witch Woman.

  “Sleeping oils?” asked her da, sounding distraught.

  “She was squirming too much. I had to clean out her wounds.”

  Martin turned to confront the Witch Woman. “I’ve told you, you have no idea what’s in those concoctions you use….”

  Kiri finally managed to sit all the way up. The blanket slid down and the breeze felt good against her sweaty skin, but the itch at her shoulder grew worse.

  She reached to scratch it and felt a square cloth stuck to her, right where the itch was. With a sharp tug, she yanked the cloth free. Blood stained the fabric. The Witch Woman must have fixed the cloth to her shoulder as a bandage.

  She heard a gasp behind her and turned. Paulo stood at the edge of the mending tent, staring at her wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

  “I was coming back to eat the soup,” she said, thinking Paulo must be surprised to see her after she’d been kicked out the other night. That would explain his shocked expression. “I would have eaten it…,” she added.

  Paulo shook his head. “Da! Tae! Look…” He pointed to Kiri’s bare shoulder.

  Several of the adults stopped arguing. Their mouths fell open like Paulo’s had as they stared at the wound on Kiri’s shoulder.

  “You still think it was only a feral cat that scratched her, Charro?” asked the Witch Woman. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve never seen a cat with paws as big as my hand.”

  Her da wanted to carry her home, but Kiri shrugged off his help. She didn’t want to look childish in front of the whole village. Besides, with every step her head grew clearer and the tingling in her hands and feet lessened. Martin stayed by her side, carrying her hoodie with Snowflake in it as they shuffled across the beach toward the ghost forest.

  The Witch Woman was taking everyone to see where she’d found Kiri the night before, and where she’d seen the Shadow That Hunts. Word of the enormous claw marks on Kiri’s shoulder had spread through the village, and most fugees who weren’t out in their skiffs followed the Witch Woman.

  “This way,” said the elder woman. She cut between two sand dunes toward the sea-grape tunnels. Kiri noticed a patch of disturbed sand near the base of one of the dunes, as if someone had dug a hole there and then filled it in. The Witch Woman hurried past the dunes, directing the fugees to a different area.

  “I was making my way to the waste pits when I heard a scream,” said the Witch Woman. “So I took my torch and ran to help. That’s when I saw the Shadow That Hunts. It stood over her, eyes blazing like swamp fire in the dark.”

  The Witch Woman pointed to where Kiri had been pinned beneath the huge shadow creature at the edge of the ghost forest. Nessa, Charro, and a few other fugees stepped closer to investigate.

  “Look!” said Nessa, pointing to tracks in the muddy ground. “The devi stood here!”

  Several more fugees tramped closer to see the tracks.

  A tremble coursed through Kiri as she recalled the prickle of the creature’s whiskers on her neck. The Shadow That Hunts was real.

  “Stay back! You’ll ruin the trail,” said Martin. He left Kiri’s side to investigate the paw prints. “It’s easily nine centimeters across,” he announced, measuring one print with the blade of his knife. “Three-lobed heel pad. No toenail marks…This is incredible!”

  Martin dug around in one of his pockets for a camera.

  “Keep your waller hands off it,” said Charro. “You shouldn’t even be here. The devi is ours.”

  “This track wasn’t made by a devi or a spirit or whatever other nonsense you believe,” said Martin. “It was made by a panther. It probably smelled the blood from the sea turtle you slaughtered.” He aimed his camera and took several short vids of the tracks.

  Other fugees crowded in to get a better look. Some stepped so close that the muddy ground shifted and filled in parts of the prints. Eager villagers forced Kiri and her da aside.

  Kiri wandered farther into the ghost forest, vaguely remembering where the panther had gone when it had run off. She found a couple more tracks in a patch of sandy dirt, but she didn’t say anything about them. Growing still, she listened to the villagers’ chatter behind her.

  “A panther?” asked Nessa. “I heard about those once years ago. Didn’t think any were left.”

  “Almost no one did,” said Kiri’s da. “Except me.”

  “How much is one of those worth?” asked Senek.

  “Worth?” replied her da. He sounded disturbed by the question.

  “What would the wallers trade for it?” pressed Nessa. “A boat?”

  “You can’t trade it. Not like that.”

  “He’s lying,” said Senek. “You saw him take those vids. He wants to sell it to the wallers himself.”

  “Forget the wallers,” said Charro. “We should trap it and go to the boat people with it. They’ll buy the skin, teeth, claws, and liver. They’ll even buy the bones. They grind them up and make medicine out of them. I bet they’d pay enough to feed the whole village for a year.”

  “Is that true?” asked Nessa.

  Kiri glanced back, and saw her da shake his head vehemently. “No. That’s not…” He shuffled his feet, stepping on the tracks. Kiri realized he was intentionally destroying them so the fugees couldn’t follow the trail. “You can’t kill it.”

  “You don’t get to tell us what we can or can’t do, Waller Man,” said Charro. “Elder Tomas made it clear you’re not welcome here anymore. If I see you again, it won’t end well for you.”

  “Relax. We’re going,” said her da.

  Kiri considered telling the fugees about the tracks she’d found. They’d be grateful to her. They might even let her stay in the village. But she didn’t speak.

  Instead, she swept her foot across the sandy ground and wiped out the tracks like her da had done. Maybe the Witch Woman was right. Maybe the panther was a devi and it had chosen her for some purpose. What that purpose was, she couldn’t say. She just knew that she didn’t want anyone to trap and kill the panther like they’d killed the sea turtle.

  Martin called to her and Kiri hurried after him. When they were far enough inland that the fugees couldn’t hear them, he got out his satphone and typed several numbers into it.

  “Have to act fast,” he said. “I’ll need cameras. Spider steel. Shock pods. Motion detectors…” He kept listing items as he sent vids of the paw print to his waller patrons.

  The claw marks on Kiri’s shoulder itched. She touched the wound, wincing from the pain. Knowing the panther was out there changed things. Even now, in the safety of daylight, picturing the panther in the woods made her heart swell with fear and awe, and something else. It was because of the panther that she’d seen her mother. Kiri couldn’t explain how or why, but the panther had connected her to something greater.

  She considered telling her da about the vision she’d had of her mother, but she decided not to. He might not believe her.

  You’ve been marked for a reason, she thought, recalling the Witch Woman’s words.

  If that was true, then maybe it was no accident she’d seen which direction the tracks led. She might have been marked to follow the tracks and find the panther.

  And if she found the panther, perhaps she’d find her mother again, too.

  A dragonfly searching for a lily pad to land on—that’s what Kiri thought the waller craft resembled as it neared the beach. It spiraled down from the sky with swift, insect-like movements. Instead of wings, it had two whirring thrust pods and a third thrust pod at the end of its metal ta
il.

  “A tridrone,” Kiri’s da called it, but Kiri preferred to think of it as a giant dragonfly. The camera lenses and other sensors on the bulbous head shimmered in the sunlight like dragonfly eyes. And the sound of it reminded her of a thousand mosquitoes buzzing.

  They were as far down the beach from the fugee village as they could go, near the rocky point beyond which the coast became an uncrossable labyrinth of mangrove swamps and mud channels. Even so, the fugees would see the tridrone’s descent. How could they not? The whirring sound of the thrust pods carried across the breaking waves, and the sunlight glinted off its metal sides.

  It was only a matter of time before fugees came to investigate. Her da kept glancing up the beach and fiddling with the stun stick strapped to his belt.

  “Be ready to carry as much as you can,” he said. “Once we get the drop, head back to our meeting spot in the ghost forest. Don’t wait for me and don’t look back. Just take the supplies and go. Okay, Kiribati?”

  Kiri nodded. It had been almost two days since the panther had marked her, and most of the wound had closed. Still, it stung when she moved and it itched constantly. There was no way she could wear a strap across her hurt shoulder, so she hadn’t been able to bring a backpack like her da. She hadn’t been able to bring Snowflake, either. Her da said the rat would only get in the way. Not having Snowflake made Kiri uneasy. She kept reaching back to pet him, but he wasn’t there.

  At last, the tridrone hovered above the landing spot. It turned from side to side, searching the area.

  “Stay here until it’s down and the blades stop spinning,” said her da. He left the shelter of the ghost forest and held his satphone up.

  The metal dragonfly descended in front of him. Wind from its thrust pods blew off his hat and made his shirt flap back.

  Seeing it close, Kiri was surprised that the tridrone wasn’t bigger. She wondered if the wallers were small enough to cram themselves into the coffin-sized, windowless body. Then she remembered her da explaining that it was too dangerous for waller pilots to come here, so they flew their sky skiffs remotely, peering into vid screens in their far-off city.

  The tridrone came to rest on four spindly legs. As soon as the red light on top turned green, the whirring sound lessened and her da stepped toward it, careful not to get too close to the spinning blades of the thrust pods.

  Martin tapped a series of numbers into a pad on the dragonfly’s head and a door at the front yawned open. Reaching into the tridrone’s mouth, he pulled out boxes and other supplies, which he tossed onto the beach. There were many big rolls of spider steel wire. From Martin’s expression, Kiri knew they must be heavy. And expensive. She’d never seen this much shining metal before. Then he pulled out a bundle of metal poles for some sort of structure, along with more cardboard boxes. Kiri couldn’t believe how much stuff the tridrone had brought. The supplies spread out on the beach probably cost more than all the skiffs in the village combined.

  Her da waved to her and she hurried over to carry stuff back.

  “Hold on,” he muttered, reaching into the dark mouth of the tridrone again. “We’re missing a few things.”

  “What things?” asked Kiri.

  Shouts from up the beach pulled Martin’s attention away before he could respond. Already, six or seven fugees were running toward them. Kiri couldn’t make out who they were, but she hoped Charro wasn’t among them. With any luck, most of the netters would be too far offshore to return this quickly.

  “This better be it,” said her da, sliding a black case from the dragonfly body. He flipped two latches on the case and opened it, revealing a long black barrel and other metal parts.

  Her da set to work assembling the rifle. Although Kiri had never seen one before, she knew that’s what it was. She’d heard plenty of older kids talk about the guns that wallers, scavs, and boat people carried. Some kids even carved fake guns out of sticks and made a game of pretending to shoot each other. But no one in the village had a waller rifle like this, with a long barrel and a fancy far-sight tube on top.

  Fugees weren’t allowed to have guns. Only wallers were permitted to carry them, and if you walked too close to their city walls, they’d shoot you full of holes. Scav raiders and boat people had guns, too, but theirs were shorter and uglier. Scav guns could be plenty deadly, though. Fugees always retreated to the ghost forest whenever they spotted an unfamiliar boat offshore. Without weapons of their own, they didn’t have a chance of fending off raiders.

  “What are you going to do?” asked Kiri as her da snapped the barrel into place and fixed it with a knob.

  “Only what I have to,” he said.

  “You’re not going to hurt them, are you?”

  “It’s just a tranquilizer gun, but don’t tell them that.” He pulled back a latch on the side of the gun and peered into the chamber. The fugees were little more than a stone’s throw away and coming fast. Then he searched the case for something else, grabbing a black plastic rectangle with several metal darts in it.

  Martin cursed and snapped the darts into the bottom of the rifle, right as the dragonfly tridrone started to beep loudly. A moment later, the thrust pods hummed and the blades began to spin.

  “Get back! Now!” said her da.

  A crackle of pain shot across Kiri’s shoulder as she grabbed what boxes she could and scooted back. The blades of the thrust pods whirred, kicking up clouds of stinging sand. Instead of backing away from the tridrone, her da seemed to be fighting to hold down the mouth door.

  “There must be another box!” He frantically searched the cargo hold.

  The metal dragonfly tail lifted off the ground and the tridrone tipped dangerously toward Martin. Still, he didn’t let go. “You can’t do this!” he yelled. “Not again!”

  The whir of the thrust pods increased, becoming an angry scream. Clouds of sand engulfed Martin as the fugees neared.

  Senek, red-faced and panting, carried an old fishing net. He swung the weighted ends of the net over his head, preparing to throw it.

  “Da! Look out!” shouted Kiri.

  Her da glanced at Senek and his hand slipped off the front of the tridrone. Instantly, the metal dragonfly shot into the air, becoming little more than a dot high above them in a few heartbeats. Kiri watched it go, amazed by its speed, until a shout from one the fugees called her attention back to earth.

  “Waller!” yelled Senek, still swinging his net. He shuffled toward Martin, along with a few other fugees—mostly kids and women who hadn’t gone out on the skiffs that morning. “You were warned not to come back here. That’s ours by rights.” He nodded to the boxes on the beach. “Everything on this beach is ours.”

  Her da cocked the rifle. Most of the fugees stopped then, but sunburned, red-faced Senek kept stepping closer, swinging his net.

  CRACK!

  The shot sprayed up sand in front of Senek. He jumped back and the weighted ends of the net slapped his shoulders.

  “We’re going to gather our things and go,” said Kiri’s da. He cocked the rifle again and aimed at Senek. “Don’t make me use this. Next time I won’t miss.”

  Senek’s expression seemed to melt until his eyes became two thin slits in his sweating face. “The others are gonna hear about this.”

  “Kiribati,” said her da, “take what boxes you can and head to our meeting spot.”

  Kiri did as she was told. Even though her da sounded calm, there was an edge to his words that frightened her.

  She looked back once she reached the ghost forest. Her da had managed to load most of the remaining supplies into his backpack. Then he slung the pack over his shoulder and lifted the last box with his other arm, all while keeping the waller rifle pointed at Senek.

  Kiri and her da stashed the supplies they carried in the ghost forest. Then Martin unwound a strand of spider steel and attached it to a black box that he nailed to the trunk of a tree.

  “Take this,” he said, handing Kiri the heavy spool of spider steel. “Walk no
rth with it. We need to put up a fence before the netters return and find out what we’ve done.”

  You mean what you’ve done, thought Kiri.

  “Hurry!” urged her da.

  Kiri headed north through the trees and scattered ruins of the ghost forest, letting the wire unspool behind her with every step. The spider steel was so thin she could barely see it, but it was stronger than the heaviest fishing line.

  Her da wore gloves as he worked, securing spider steel around tree branches and palm trunks, forming a messy web that went from the forest floor to as far up as he could reach. Every now and then he nailed an orange warning sign to a tree on the beach side of the wires. Sweat poured down his sides as he worked, but he didn’t slow.

  “Faster!” he said to Kiri, checking the position of the sun. “I need more wire.”

  After a while, Kiri finished uncoiling the second spool of spider steel. Her da attached the end to a black box that he nailed to the back of a tree about six feet up. Then he pulled another spool from his backpack, undid the end, and gave it to Kiri to walk with. His hands shook and blood from several cuts trickled down his arms. The cuts were from brushing against strands of spider steel. Kiri hated to imagine what would happen if someone didn’t see the wire and ran into it.

  She peered back at what she and her da had done so far. Silver wires glinted in the fading sunlight, forming a nearly invisible razor web between the ghost forest and the beach. They’d strung up half a mile or so of wire, and they were almost to the main path she used when she ran through the ghost forest and sea-grape tunnels to collect seawater samples every day. Once the fence was up, she wouldn’t be able to cross anymore. Realizing this made Kiri feel hot and trapped, like a fish stuck in a shrinking tide pool.

  She stumbled, delirious. The scratches on her shoulder and cheek burned and her legs felt weak.

  Her da gave her a concerned look. “You okay?” He handed her his water bottle. “Drink something.”

  Kiri tilted the bottle and drank, but the hot, light-headed feeling didn’t go away.