The Last Hunter - Lament (Book 4 of the Antarktos Saga)

by Jeremy Robinson

  If I can keep from crying, I think, I should do okay.

  That’s when I see Aimee walk out of one of the metal buildings. She’s followed by Merrill and a man I don’t know, but who is clearly General Holloway. He is followed by Cairns, then Adoni, then the Latino soldier known as Cruz and finally, by Mirabelle Whitney.

  The sight of the Clark family altogether is more than I can bear, and the tears I would so like to hide trace a line of wetness on my lower eyelid. I take a deep breath, control myself and pretend to have something in my eyes as I wipe away the wetness. So much for not crying.

  As the group approaches, I can no longer just stand and wait. I break formation and move to greet my friends. Merrill is in the lead, I suspect because he’s the unofficial guide to all of the strangeness on Antarctica. He looks older than I remember, which makes sense because it’s been twenty-one years. His hair is gray, as is his full beard, and he looks a little thicker around the waist, though still fit enough to handle an expedition.

  “Dr. Clark!” I say as a smile too impossibly wide to hide, spreads across my face.

  Merrill glances back to Adoni, who waves to me and offers a bow.

  The following words spoken by Merrill don’t sink in.

  “Is this him?” he asks Adoni. “Your leader?”

  “Yes, it is him.”

  By the time Merrill turns back to face me, I’ve reached him.

  My mind races back to the first time I met him, how I stumbled out of the car and hit my head like a clumsy oaf. He saw the whole thing, but didn’t say a word. Not until later at least, by which time we had become fast friends. Merrill knew everything about me, gave me my middle name and suspected before anyone, even me, that I might have some kind of power upon my return to Antarctica.

  I reach out to shake his hand, which he returns, but my excitement gets the better of me. I reach my hands around him, hugging him tight. He coughs, surprised, and doesn’t return the embrace. But I don’t notice because I’m already moving on to Aimee, who is watching us with a grin. But when I open my arms to her, she just looks confused. And then a little afraid.

  A tight hand on my biceps stops me and turns me back to Merrill. My smile disappears when I see his angry face.

  “Son, I don’t care who you are to these people, you need to explain yourself before you put your hands on my wife.”

  “What? Merrill, I—” It occurs to me that I might look so different now that he can’t recognize me. “It’s me. Solomon. Solomon Vincent.”

  He stares at me dumbly.

  “I’m Mark and Beth’s son.”

  “I know who they are, but I’m not sure how you know them,” he says, looking a little defensive now.

  “We came here, to Antarctica, twenty-one years ago. You, and me, my parents, and Aimee,” I point to Mira, who I am dying to greet, but she just looks angry, “and Mira. We went to Clark Station Two. I was kidnapped. Taken—”

  “Hold on,” Merrill says. “I did come here with the Vincents, and with Mira, but you were not with us. I do not know you. And you are not the Vincents’ son.”

  “I was born here,” I argue, then point to Amiee. “You caught me. Made me stop crying.” I turn back to Merrill. “You gave me my middle name, Ull.”

  His face twitches at this, though I don’t think it’s in remembrance, but in recognition that it’s the kind of name he would give.

  “All of this is impossible,” he says, growing angrier.

  “It’s all true!” I shout at him, losing my patience. I turn to Aimee again. “Tell him! You’ve been here this whole time. You’ve seen me. You freed me. Tell him!”

  “Son,” Merrill says quietly. “I can see that you’re upset, and in a minute, you’re going to tell me everything you know about my wife’s abduction and what you know about her time here, but you are either delusional or a liar.”

  “You know I’m neither,” I say through grinding teeth.

  Then he delivers the verbal knockout blow.

  “It’s impossible, because the Vincents never had a son.”

  31

  “I am their son!” I shout, growing angry. Soldiers start to inch closer, hands by their weapons. I ignore them, focusing on Merrill. I decide to recall something from my parents’ shared past with the Clarks, something that only the four of them, or someone close enough to have heard the story, would know. The details, told to me by my father, come to me as though my father were speaking them into my ear.

  “You introduced them. On a boat. A sailboat. The Argos. You all went searching for humpbacks in the Gulf of Maine. But you found nothing and the sea was flat.” I stab a finger at him. “You fell asleep.” I turn to Aimee. “You read a romance novel. And my parents talked. ‘By the end of the day, I was madly in love. Best day of my life.’ That’s what my father told me. They were married six months, fourteen days later, and you gave the toast. Quoted Virgil. ‘Ómnia vincit amor; et nos cedamus amori.’ ‘Love conquers all things; let us too surrender to love.’”

  All of the anger drains from Merrill’s face. Aimee’s too. But they’re still confused. Mira still looks angry, like she loathes me.

  “How do you know all that?” Merrill asks.

  “My father, your friend, told me.”

  Merrill looks to Aimee, but she’s shaking her head. I’m still a stranger to her, too. I consider telling Aimee about her years as a captive, at least to see what lines up with reality, and what she remembers. She knows she lived among the Nephilim. She recalls being rescued. But all trace of me in those years of memories has been forgotten. How could they just forget me?

  I feel the rest of my crew approach from behind and see the eyes of the group in front of me dart to each of them, looking a bit uncomfortable when they land on Xin. Kat steps to the front of the group. “You can trust him, Merrill.”

  Merrill’s eyes go wide. “Katherine!” A genuine smile appears on his face for the first time. He gives her a quick hug and then looks around. “We thought you were dead. Where is Wright?”

  “He is dead,” Kat says. “But he didn’t die at the river. He died later on, to save us.” She motions to our group, and then to me. “He died to save him. Because he is who he says he is. Did you know that my husband’s father was on that expedition? Steven Wright.”

  Merrill eyes widen. “It never occurred to me.”

  “Well he knew,” she says, pointing to me. “He remembered everything about Wright’s father, including that he didn’t bring his son to Clark Station Two because he was convinced the boy would die on Antarctica. And now he has. For him.”

  Merrill chews on his lower lip. “I would like to believe you. But I have no memory of the boy. It’s too much to believe.”

  “If she’s with him,” Mira says. “She might be compromised.”

  “Whitney,” Kat grumbles, using Mira’s last name, her voice revealing the sting she feels at Mira’s accusation. “The hell?”

  If Kat’s support isn’t enough to convince them, then I’m not sure what will. I decide to focus on events that might not make sense with me removed from them. “When you came back to Antarctica, with my parents, and with Mira, do you remember the Sno-Cat ride?”

  Merrill nods.

  I look to Mira. “Do you remember riding with Collette?”

  Mira says nothing. She just glares.

  “How could he know this?” Aimee whispers.

  “Do you remember stopping?”

  Both shake their heads, no.

  “Do you remember the storm that arrived later that night?”

  This gets a nod from Merrill. “We had to leave because of it.”

  “Aimee was injured that night.”

  “Yes,” Merrill says, searching his memory.

  “How?” I ask.

  Both of them think hard on this, but can’t come up with an answer.

  “She was unconscious,” I say. “Bleeding. And you can’t remember how it happened?”

  They’re both more confused tha
n before.

  “You need to leave them alone,” Mira says, stepping between Aimee and me. Her fists are clenched, and I note she has a gun holstered to her hip, along with a machete. The holster strap holding the gun in place has been unclipped. This is not the girl I remember. Could she have changed so much?

  I ignore her demand. I know this is hard for her parents, but they need to remember, and not just to keep my heart from breaking.

  “And you know how it happened?” Merrill asks.

  “The storm woke me up. I wandered outside. You had attached a bell to my door—”

  Aimee’s eyes blink. “I remember the bell... It woke me up.” She looks at Merrill. “Why did we—”

  “The bell was for me. To let you know that I was awake.” I sense Merrill is about to ask a slew of question, but continue on, getting to the point of the story. “It was snowing. The wind was picking up. But I wasn’t alone. A man—a hunter—was watching me from the dark. He spoke to me. Threatened me. And when I felt a presence behind me, I struck out. But it wasn’t the man. It was Aimee.”

  I sense Merrill’s growing anger. I’ve just confessed to knocking out his wife.

  “It was an accident,” I say. “I was just thirteen. One year older than Mira at the time.” This additional information doesn’t calm him at all, so I push on. “While Aimee lay on the floor, the power went out.”

  “I remember that, too,” Aimee says. “I had just woken up.”

  “Who went out to turn it back on?” I ask.

  They both search for an answer but find nothing in their memory.

  “Someone you never saw again? Someone lost in the storm?”

  Merrill starts to nod slowly.

  “How can you not remember that person?” I ask, growing a little bit angry myself. That they cannot remember me going missing is offensive. “How can you not remember the name of the thirteen year old boy who went out into an Antarctic storm and never came back? I was kidnapped that night. Taken underground and tortured. I was turned into a monster. And, like you, I forgot—”

  The last words out of my mouth hit me hard. They haven’t forgotten, they’ve been made to forget. They’re compromised somehow. In the grip of the Nephilim.

  I step back away from them, a bit of fear creeping into my eyes.

  Kainda and Em react to my body language. Kainda reaches for her hammer, Em for her knife. The soldiers around us subtly switch off the safeties on their rifles.

  “Everyone calm down,” General Holloway says. “I’ve given you all long enough to work this out, but it’s clear there’s some confusion. If you are intent on settling this through violence, you will not survive.”

  The General doesn’t quite understand what he’s up against. He doesn’t know what I can do, what Kainda, Em and Xin are capable of, or that the hundreds of hunters spread out among his men might not respond well if I’m attacked. A lot of people will die.

  So I relax my posture, despite feeling like we’re in real danger, and ask Em and Kainda to do likewise. Neither of them likes it, but they listen.

  The General steps forward, “Glad to see you’ve got some self-control, now let’s—”

  I tune out the general. I recognize the beginning of a lecture designed to disarm and placate, and I’m hardly interested.

  Xin, I think.

  I know, he replies. I am searching their minds. Adoni is confused, but himself. The same is true for the General. He does not trust you, or me, though.

  I feel Xin’s tension rise. What is it?

  Merrill is himself, but his memories of you have been blocked. The change was put in place long ago, after Aimee was taken. He has not remembered you for some time.

  How? I ask.

  Gatherers sometimes initiate blocks on the people close to those they have abducted, especially if those people are in a position to uncover the truth about their loved one’s disappearance. Before the rise of Antarktos, secrecy was of the utmost importance to the Nephilim plot. Merrill must have been searching for you. You were removed from his mind.

  Sorrow mixes with rage and leaves me feeling confused, but Xin’s grim prognosis isn’t completed yet.

  It is likely they did the same to Mira...and your parents.

  Sorrow takes a quick backseat to rage, and I have a very hard time keeping my reaction to this revelation from appearing on my face. I’m not sure what the General is saying, but I’m willing to bet an angry look on my face wouldn’t be the appropriate reaction.

  But Aimee knew me this whole time, I think. How could she forget me so quickly?

  Xin is quiet for a moment, and I know he is searching her mind now, too.

  Her memories are similarly locked, Xin determines. But much more recently. The mental scarring is fresh.

  Can you undo it? I ask.

  With your help, yes. I will check the daughter’s memories as—

  Something the General has just said pulls me out of my conversation with Xin. I use my perfect memory to replay his words.

  “Now if you’ll kindly follow these men to the brig, we can all stay safe until we sort this out.”

  I blink, back in the present conversation.

  “Son, did you hear me?” he asks. “Did you hear a word I just said?”

  “No,” I confess without thinking. My eyes wander to Merrill and then to Aimee. They look the same, confused and concerned, as they should be. My eyes go to Mira. She’s blinking oddly, twisting with discomfort.

  Xin’s voice smashes into my mind along with a flood of emotions. It’s her! He shouts. The daughter!

  The surge of emotion squeezes my eyes shut. It’s just for a moment, but when I open them again, Mira has freed her handgun and leveled it at my chest. And when she pulls the trigger, I am too stunned to even react.

  32

  The striking mechanism inside Mira’s handgun springs forward, connecting with a bullet. The gunpowder ignites, propelling the round out of the gun faster than the speed of the shot’s explosive report. Despite the differences in speed, it all seems to happen in the same fraction of a second, though the moment is dragged out as though moving through tree sap.

  Pain stabs my ears as the gunshot reaches them. Then again and again.

  Three rounds fired in quick succession.

  An impact, like being punched hard, strikes my chest.

  The world spins. I see blue sky. The wet, muddy earth of the trampled quad slaps against my back as I topple over.

  Air rushes out of my lungs as something heavy pushes down on me.

  For a moment, I’m dazed, but then my mind clears, the pain fades and I know without looking that I am not severely injured.

  What happened? I think, looking down.

  The weight on top of me. It’s Xin!

  “Xin!” I shout, “Are you—”

  He lifts his head slowly and looks into my eyes.

  She is a shifter, he thinks. Not your Mira.

  I look around him and see Mira with her hands raised. Several guards are taking the weapon from her hands. Several more think they are keeping Kainda and Em in place. Kat is the only thing holding them back. Merrill and Aimee look horrified, and honestly, so does the General.

  I am sorry, Solomon, Xin thinks. Though he’s not speaking audibly, he sounds different. Distant. Mira is dead. Shifters—

  I know, I think. Shifters kill the people they duplicate. They are an elusive tribe of Nephilim that I only recently encountered after returning from Tartarus. From what I understand, they have only recently returned to Antarctica as they spent most of their time among humanity, in disguise, causing strife, instigating fear and causing wars. They were, and perhaps still are, the trickster gods—Loki, Hermes, Asmodeus, Puck and the like—sons of the most notorious demon, Lucifer. The Devil himself. It is they, not the warriors, who are regarded as the most dangerous of Nephilim. They simply lack the numbers or desires to lead. They’re all about deception, and they excel at it.

  You must kill her, Xin thinks. Avenge m
e.

  Avenge you?

  I am lost, he thinks, pushing himself up a little.

  I look down and see a golf ball sized hole in his chest. The bullet must have struck his back and exited through his chest, missing me entirely. Red blood drips from his chest to mine.

  I will last a little while longer, but I will not survive. You must kill her before she realizes her assassination attempt has failed.

  Xin... Brother...

  Act now, Solomon! My death has always been inevitable. Show them why only you can lead!

  His words and urgency fuel my brewing rage. I roll Xin onto his back as gently as I can. As I stand and face the doppelganger, Xin transmits a name into my thoughts. Amaguq. Countless encyclopedias worth of knowledge flits through my head. Amaguq. The Inuit trickster god. A massive wolf that killed hunters at night.

  Not this hunter, I think, then call out the name. “Amaguq!”

  Mira’s eyes lock on mine, confirming that she is not, in fact, Mirabelle Whitney.

  Whipsnap cracks to life in my hand, making those around me jump back. Some of the soldiers point their weapons at me. “Put them down,” I growl.

  “Don’t kill her,” Merrill says, stepping in front of me. “She’s my only daughter.”

  “Mirabella...” Sadness threatens to dull my anger, but I remind myself that the creature responsible for all of this is pretending to be Mira. “Your daughter is dead.”

  Merrill just looks confused. Mira appears to be alive and well.

  “Amaguq,” I say, repeating the name, confident that he’ll understand.

  “The Inuit trickster god, but what—” Merrill has seen the Nephilim. He knows that strange and otherworldly things have happened here. He might not remember me, but he remembers his encounters with the Nephilim—the giants who posed as gods to the ancients. “No...”