Carrion Safari

by Jonah Buck

  “Did you see anybody else running away from the camp?” Gail asked.

  “No. I was watching the sky for bats from the bridge of that ship when I heard the first shot and scream. I was only halfway down to the exit when I heard the next blast. I ran over as fast as I could.”

  Silas and Creighton chose that moment to show up, thrashing their way through a line of underbrush to enter the clearing. “What happened? Is everyone alright? Oh good God!” Silas said as he spotted Razan’s dead body.

  “I say, this situation looks unfortunate,” Creighton said.

  “Balthazar got here first. We were just asking him some questions,” Denise said.

  “How did you get here so fast?” Silas asked.

  “It’s more or less a straight shot from my camp to Razan’s. It’s probably a little further than your camp, but I don’t have to wind around any of those coastal cliffs to get here the way you do,” Balthazar said.

  “A ‘straight shot’ here?” Denise asked.

  Balthazar grimaced. “Poor choice of words. Did either of you see anything?” He pointed to Creighton and Silas.

  One by one, the other hunters arrived. Shinzo showed up last. They’d all heard the shots and screams and zeroed in on Razan’s camp. No one saw anything. No one knew what had happened. All nine of the hunters stared at the cooling body on the ground.

  “I think there’s only one conclusion here,” Balthazar said. “Someone on this island is a murderer.”

  “But why?” Gail asked. “What’s the point of killing one of us?”

  “It could be a simple matter of dislike,” Creighton said. “Andris made himself a difficult man to get along with sometimes. I seem to recall that you and your friends stayed away from him.” The Englishman pointed to Denise, Gail, and Harrison. “Perhaps someone thought it would be his just desserts if something bad were to happen to him in a place where the authorities could not easily investigate. Hmm?”

  “Oh, shove it, peckerwood,” Harrison said. “From my experience, you can trace a lot of trouble back to money. Always follow the money. Me, Gail, and Denise weren’t about to start a fan club for Mr. Razan there, but all three of us would have to agree to murder him and then cover for each other. Too complicated. Too easy to go wrong.

  “No, I’m guessing this was about the money. Somebody thinks that there’s too much competition for that hundred thousand dollar grand prize around here. Maybe if Razan lands an ahool, nobody else will get a good opportunity. Maybe our killer is thinking it’s best to thin out the ranks a little, and that will improve his odds of netting some of that sweet, sweet Yersinia money.”

  “Maybe we should string you up and see how much you really know about this, you loud-mouthed nigger,” Jubal Hayes said. “Ain’t nobody going to miss your sad black ass if we’re wrong.”

  “I don’t know. Your wife would miss it quite a bit. She seems rather fond of it.” Harrison glowered at Jubal.

  Jubal started forward, but Balthazar knocked him back. “Leave it,” the big Boer said. “He’s right. It’s much more likely to be an individual than a group who is responsible for this. Maybe a couple of people can all make an alibi for each other, but that’s a lot harder. You two and DeMarco say you were all together when this happened, and I believe you. Silas and Creighton were in their camp together, and that makes them less likely, too. That leaves four of us who can’t confirm their location with anyone else at the time of this murder.”

  Balthazar looked at Dr. Marlow. Dr. Marlow looked at Jubal. Jubal looked at Shinzo. Shinzo looked at Balthazar.

  “You know, it could be one of the island natives.” Dr. Marlow said.

  “Denise did say one of them told her that we needed to leave the island by tomorrow night. This could be a sort of warning,” Silas said.

  “And they’ve sealed themselves off behind that wall of theirs, too,” Creighton added.

  “I can see the village from the bridge of the ship,” Balthazar said. “Nobody came or went through their main gate since I set up my equipment up there. It could be one of the islanders, but it’s someone not working with the rest of the village if it is. I’m not sure they’d have access to a big enough gun to do this.” He pointed to Razan’s broken body. “That’s the work of a serious rifle and someone who knew how to use it.”

  “So what do we do about this?” Shinzo asked.

  “I don’t think we’re going to be able to figure this out on our own just standing here,” Denise said. “We’re going to need to radio the Shield of Mithridates, and they’re going to need to come back with the Dutch authorities.

  “Until then, we should probably split into groups of three. No one is left alone that way, either to execute more murders or to be preyed on by the killer. Whoever did it will always be outnumbered two to one that way, and he’ll always have someone watching him.”

  Balthazar gave her an odd look. Was that…grudging respect? Or did he just have to sneeze?

  “I think that’s a good idea for now,” Silas said. “Hopefully, that will keep everyone safe, at least until Hobhouse and the Shield of Mithridates return. We can consolidate camps in the morning.”

  The remaining hunters grouped together. Shinzo went with Silas and Creighton, but he wasn’t happy about it. His golden eagle would be alone until the morning. Creighton grimaced as they led him away toward their camp.

  That left Balthazar, Jubal, and Dr. Marlow together, a regular dream team. After a brief argument, Jubal stood down on insisting they use his camp, and they started toward the beached cruiser van Rensburg was occupying. He won the argument by pointing out that steel walls were much more defensible than a mere tent.

  Denise couldn’t help but think about the height advantage Balthazar would have up on the bridge as well. She wondered if he could see the entrance to the cave where she, Gail, and Harrison were camped. Would he be able to draw a bead on them from there if he wanted? Did he have a clear shot at Razan’s camp from there? Jubal and Dr. Marlow started to walk down the path to the German warship.

  “Wait, what do we do about Andris?” Denise asked. She looked down at his corpse, still sprawled awkwardly in the trench. “We should bury him or something, right?”

  “Nah, leave him for the maggots,” Jubal said. “His troubles are over. I don’t want to drag him out of there.”

  “I would suggest we leave him as well,” Dr. Marlow said. “There might be bats in the air, and I’d rather not linger.”

  “No, she’s right,” Balthazar said, surprising her. “If nothing else, the authorities should get a chance to examine his body for clues. If we leave him for the scavengers, there might not be much left. We’ll take care of this business, and then return.” Stepping down into to pit, he grabbed Razan by the legs. Denise and Gail found a tarp, and Balthazar and Harrison lifted the body onto it.

  Grabbing Razan’s shovel, Denise followed them as they dragged the tarp toward the edge of the beach. They took turns digging while the others watched the sky and kept their rifles handy.

  Soon, they had a shallow grave ready, and they rolled Razan off the tarp into the hole. His body thwumped into the sand face up, his burst eyes staring at all of them. His mouth hung open in a silent shriek. Denise laid the tarp over top of him, and they shoveled sand on top as fast as they could.

  “Hold on. We’ll need to be able to find him again,” Denise said. She ran back the short distance to Razan’s camp and grabbed his pack and rifle. Lugging them back, she plopped the heavy rucksack down over the mound of sand and wedged the rifle vertically through the straps to create a crude marker.

  They scurried back to their respective camps like mice under the gaze of an owl. No one said anything. No one needed to. Now they knew that the most dangerous predators on Malheur Island might not be the ahools.

  TEN

  MOON ROCKS

  The next morning was bright with promise. Whether it was a promise of good or bad, it was too early to say.

  Denise had barely sle
pt at all last night, even after her watch ended. They hadn’t been able to reach the Shield of Mithridates on the radios Hobhouse gave them. Whether that was from equipment failure or simply because the ship’s radioman was busy communicating with all the other hunting teams about the murder, Denise didn’t know. Even though they were using the right channel, and the radio seemed to be working, they never got ahold of Hobhouse to tell him about Razan’s murder.

  Fortunately, they weren’t attacked by anything in the night, human or otherwise. There was no sign of any giant bats on the island, nor had she heard any activity from the other hunters. Apparently, it was a quiet night for everyone after the spectacle of Razan’s death.

  Hopefully, Malheur Island didn’t have any more surprises of that magnitude for them. Denise ate breakfast with Gail and Harrison. They both had dark circles under their eyes as well.

  “Alright, so we need to formulate a plan for the day,” Gail said.

  “Right. First of all, I think we should all stick together. Nobody should wander off on their own,” Harrison said.

  “Agreed.” Denise nodded. She’d gathered some driftwood and started a small fire, which now had a coffee pot bubbling above it. Coffee was good. Coffee was their friend. All hail the savior of the realm, coffee.

  “With people grouped up, I don’t think the killer will try anything again,” she said. “At least, maybe not until nightfall when they could slip away and hide a bit better. Nobody is going to be very eager to let people out of their sights, though.”

  She had spent the entire night wondering who could be responsible for murdering Razan. Because she knew that neither Gail nor Harrison was responsible, and she could sure as hell rule herself out, that left six suspects among the remaining hunters. Some of them were pretty rough and tumble, but were any of them willing to murder a man in cold blood, to pop the top of his skull off while he lay on the ground screaming for help?

  And, of course, they weren’t alone on Malheur. There were also the islanders to consider. They were still an enigma. Aside from the man in dungarees at the beach, no one had seen any of the villagers. They’d simply holed up behind their walls like they were expecting a siege.

  For that matter, why was the village even walled off? If they were the only population of people on Malheur, they could spread out and live anywhere they wanted. Instead, they’d huddled up behind protection, cut off from the entire rest of the island.

  Their radio crackled. “Hello? Anybody there?”

  Denise thought about leaving the radio piece where it was and not answering. She recognized the low rumble of Balthazar’s voice. Harrison and Gail were watching her. Sighing, she picked the radio up.

  “Hello, Balthazar. This is Denise. Why are you calling us?”

  There was a pause. “Put someone else on. One of your friends. I don’t want to talk to you.”

  “Yeah? Well, too bad. If you have something important to say, spill it.”

  There was another long pause. “Put one of the others on long enough, so I can know they’re still alive.”

  “It’s cool, Balthazar. We’re still fogging mirrors over here,” Harrison said close to the mouthpiece. “Now put on somebody else over there, so we can make sure they’re still alive, too.”

  “I’m alright, and so is Marlow,” Jubal said over the radio.

  Damn, Harrison mouthed to Denise.

  “Alright, now that we know nobody killed everyone else off in their sleep last night, what do you need, Balthazar?”

  “Were you able to contact the Shield of Mithridates last night?”

  Denise’s grip tightened on the radio. “You mean you weren’t able to reach them either?”

  “No, we tried to after we buried Razan. The airwaves were clear; there was just no response.”

  “We had the same problem. There wasn’t just nothing. It’s like they weren’t responding. I’ll try radioing Silas and his group. Maybe they were able to get through.”

  “Don’t bother. I asked them first. They couldn’t get through, either.”

  “This is bad,” Denise said. Presumably, the Shield of Mithridates would come back, but not for another month. It was just supposed to return after a set time or when someone radioed in that they’d captured an ahool.

  Until that ship returned, they were all effectively marooned on Malheur Island. Marooned with the killer.

  “Stay safe out there,” Balthazar said, surprising her.

  “You too,” she replied. She looked at Harrison and Gail.

  There were exactly two other people that Denise trusted on this island, and they were both in this cave with her, pondering the same questions as she was.

  “Alright, we have daylight again. I say we use it wisely. Our goals should be threefold. This hiccup in the communications might only be temporary. The Shield of Mithridates might have already realized there’s something wrong with the radios and is heading back right now, but we have to assume they aren’t. Maybe even something happened to them.”

  Denise thought about the wrecked pleasure yacht, the Venture. Even if giant bats were responsible for that, surely they couldn’t knock out a ship as large as the Shield of Mithridates, could they? Then she remembered the wrecked German cruiser further down the beach. That vessel was a lot bigger and a lot meaner than Hobhouse’s floating luxury hospital. She felt a sense of dread creep down her spine.

  “First, our number one priority needs to be to stay safe. We go everywhere together. Nobody lets anyone get lost. Nobody splits off. We’ll outnumber anyone with bad intentions three to one that way, and I like those odds a lot better than any others.

  “Next, we should scout out the island for fresh water and sources of food. We all know how to survive in the wild, but we might be here longer than expected.” Maybe a lot longer if our ride out was attacked, she thought. “Our canned food and other supplies won’t last forever. It will be good to figure out what fruits, nuts, and game we can find here. If there is trouble, it will be to our advantage if we already know where to find enough to live off the land for a while.

  “Finally, we should look for any ahool colonies, probably in caves or other dark spaces. I assume that they’re like most bats and only come out once it starts to get dark. Maybe they don’t even exist at all, but I for one want to make damn sure I know where the big predators are going to pop out of after nightfall. We’ll be safer avoiding those places later in the day, and maybe we can set up some traps and capture one of these things by the time the Shield of Mithridates comes back to check on us.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Gail said.

  They set off from their cave, carrying just what they needed. Today, that meant a Nitro Express rifle and a heavy revolver strapped to everyone’s hip. Denise left her tranquilizer gun behind. If they ran into any trouble during the daylight, it was a lot more likely a person than an ahool.

  Denise felt the weight of the rifle in her hands as she stepped off the soft sand, and her feet started across the damp, spongy piles of jungle litter. She hadn’t gone hunting since the incident with the Belgian dentists. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to, which was true. It was because she all but physically couldn’t. Tromping through the underbrush carrying a big gun brought it all back.

  A coil of unease knotted itself inside her stomach and started squeezing her insides. She tapped her sweaty fingers against the rifle’s trigger guard, beating a senseless rhythm. Her breath escaped in hot little bursts, leaving her all but panting.

  It’s okay. It’s not a real hunt. We’re just exploring. No one is hunting, she told herself. Her saliva felt hot and ropy in her mouth. She spat a gob on the ground and kept walking as bushes and shrubs scratched at her clothes as if to hold her back from what lay ahead. She reached up and wiped an unbelievable amount of sweat from her brow.

  Even though Malheur Island was already warming up with heavy tropical heat, Denise felt a chill. Her muscles felt tense and brittle, as if they might shatter if she fell down.


  The scent of omnipresent decay pushed its way up her nose. Rotten fruit. Decomposing plants. Putrid animal carcasses. The jungle was full of them. A jungle was a harsh place to live, but it was also the ultimate recycler.

  Everything that fell on the ground would first be picked apart by an army of insects. The heat would make short work of anything left over, all but boiling flesh and meat off the bones and into the soil. The nutrients would then end up sucked into the mighty trees, which would one day die and topple and decay into the earth, starting the process over again. The jungle survived by constantly eating itself, a continuous cycle of auto-cannibalism.

  Denise kicked a mound of leaves, and a big, hairy spider scuttled out from under them. She left the angry arachnid alone and continued forward.

  Nice deep breaths, she told herself. There you go. Taking in deep lungfuls of air and air and letting them out in measured breaths helped her relax a little. The knot loosened a little in her stomach.

  She tried focusing on little things, diverting her mind away. She tried to see how many animals she could spot as they walked along. There was a snake slithering across a downed branch. A troupe of monkeys with ridiculous manes watched from the boughs of a tree.

  Some of these might be previously undiscovered species. Denise specialized in African game, not the creatures native to the Dutch East Indies. Maybe Dr. Marlow would know. Or maybe not. He seemed like kind of a coot.

  Either way, Denise knew she’d be able to identify an ahool if she saw one. She didn’t need an advanced degree to recognize a bear-sized bat. That was aberrant anywhere on earth.

  To some degree, she still wasn’t even sure if she believed that ahools existed. There were a few dusty legends from this corner of the globe about giant bats, but there were also folk stories about vampires and werewolves, and she would have laughed in Hobhouse’s face if he told her that’s what he wanted her to hunt. He might as well have said Yersinia was interested in capturing a Sasquatch alive for medical study. It was a fun notion, but she wasn’t sure that it actually made a single, solitary lick of difference to the reality on the ground.