The Extinct

by Victor Methos

  Eric stayed at the café well into the afternoon, ordering a dish of lamb with yogurt sauce for dinner. The people were friendly and he’d struck up a conversation with some Australian tourists that sat at the table next to him. They informed him that the lamb was actually made from a vegetarian paste. There were apparently only a handful of places in the city one could get fresh cooked meat.

  As the sun began its descent and the sky went pink and gold, Jalani came to the café and sat next to him. She had a glimmer in her eyes that Eric hadn’t seen in Bangkok. He had a sense that it was brought about from the feeling that one is where one belongs.

  “I have a special treat for you now,” she said.

  “Oh yeah? What?”

  “It is a surprise. Come, I will show you.”

  They left the café and made their way down a winding street, past hawkers of jewelry and gold and trinkets that crowded around Eric, trying to sell him wooden key rings and wallets and handmade flutes.

  “Mahogany!” one of the merchants yelled as he held a flute in Eric’s face.

  Jalani said, “It is not mahogany, it is painted.”

  They walked down a few more blocks and took a right turn through a long alleyway between two old apartment buildings. A jeep was waiting for them and they climbed in and drove the two miles to the beach. Jalani gave him a bathing suit she had with her and they both changed in the bathrooms. When they emerged they were near a golden sand beach. There was a wooden pier jutting out into the sea and Jalani headed for it, not waiting for Eric. As they approached Eric could see a canoe lashed to the pier. There were two oars and some chains next to a cooler inside the canoe.

  The water was stilling for the coming evening. The sunlight reflected off of it a bright orange as they walked to the end of the pier and Jalani motioned for Eric to climb into the canoe.

  “Where we going?” Eric said.

  “It is a surprise. But I promise, you will enjoy it.”

  Eric climbed in and sat in the back as Jalani took the front. She grabbed an oar and unlashed from the pier before beginning to paddle out into the vast expanse of water. Eric took the other oar and tried to keep rhythm but found Jalani was paddling too fast and gave up the effort. For such a small frame she was incredibly strong.

  When they were a few hundred yards from shore, Jalani stopped paddling and looked around at the murky water. Her eyes were slits and her brow furrowed from concentration as she stared into the depths, though Eric couldn’t see more than a few feet below the surface. Jalani opened the cooler. There was a fat chicken inside, its feathers plucked and its head cut off. She stabbed a large iron hook through it and attached the hook to a thin chain. She then tied the chain to the front of the canoe and threw the chicken overboard. Eric was about to say something but Jalani stopped him with a motion of her hand and they sat in silence nearly ten minutes.

  Finally, a streak of gray breaking through the surface a dozen feet from the boat; the dorsal fin of a shark. It was swimming in a wide arch around the boat, the peak of its tailfin sticking out of the water about four feet behind its dorsal fin.

  “Holy shit,” Eric said.

  “Take the ropes.”

  Eric looked down and saw two ropes wound in tight circles attached to the canoe with bolts. He grabbed them and held on. “What are we—”

  “Keep quiet!”

  The shark appeared colossal since only a flimsy piece of wood was separating Eric from him. There was splashing behind them and Eric turned to see another shark approaching, its skin gray-brown in the sunlight. It swam near the chicken and Jalani pulled up on the chain and hauled the chicken back in the canoe until the shark swam around to the other side.

  “Jalani, what the hell are we doing?”

  “He wasn’t big enough.”

  “Big enough for what?”

  There was more splashing and more fins, about five of them. They were circling the canoe and taking small bites in the cloud of blood the chicken carcass gave off. But every time one of them would come in to feed, Jalani would pull the carcass back onto the canoe.

  Suddenly there was a commotion as the sharks banked away from the canoe, swimming into the depths. The water began to still and the ocean went silent. Eric glanced around. Even the smaller fish that had come by earlier to have a look at the carcass had vanished. There was nothing.

  “The ocean has grown still,” Jalani said.

  Eric had gone from nervousness to fear and was gripping the ropes so tightly it hurt his hands. As he let go to examine them the canoe lurched forward, throwing him back and nearly over the side. Jalani reached out and grabbed his shirt collar, bringing him into place.

  The canoe stopped moving. The only sound now was Eric’s heavy breathing. Before he could say anything the canoe jerked forward and then tilted to the side, nearly submerging the two of them. Jalani was squealing with delight, laughing as the water splashed onto her face. Eric thought she sounded insane.

  The canoe was spinning slowly now; whatever was underneath was circling. It began heading out farther into sea, pulling them along.

  “Unhook the fucking line!” Eric shouted.

  Jalani grabbed an oar and began paddling backward.

  The pulling motion of the canoe slowed and then stopped. Eric could see a large mass coming up from the water. The water was parting as the creature made its way to the surface just off the port side of the canoe. He noticed the dorsal fin first, about two feet high and silver gray. The tail. Then the monstrous head with pitch-black eyes and jagged white teeth. It was a great white shark.

  The shark was circling them, the hook jutting through the flesh of its mouth. It was at least as large as the canoe, about twelve feet, and Eric got the impression that the canoe would crumble if it decided to attack.

  The enormous fish swam slowly, the circles gradually decreasing as it approached the canoe. It was tilted slightly to the side and its black eye was kept steady, staring. Finally the shark passed only a few feet away and Eric saw its terrible mouth as it opened, taking in the residual blood in the water. When it was near enough, to Eric’s shock, Jalani slammed the oar into the shark’s snout.

  The pain made the shark thrash violently from side-to-side and then shoot away. The canoe followed as Jalani laughed. The shark was in a frenzy now. It was lashing its powerful body left and right and the canoe was being thrown one way and then the other as if caught in a storm.

  The shark dove. The canoe followed, its front end completely submerging as it was being pulled down. It started going vertical and Jalani unhooked the chain, the canoe slapping back horizontally on the water.

  Jalani looked back to Eric with a big smile, water dripping from her soaking hair into her eyes. Silently, she picked up an oar and began paddling back to the pier.

  CHAPTER

  31

  Night over Kavali was starless and the air had the humid warmth that foretells a coming rainstorm. The merchants had packed up and gone home but hawkers with low quality trinkets or stolen goods still stood on street corners and in dark alleyways. Many of the hawkers were families, each child taking turns selling as the parents smoked hashish or drank in cheap bars too dangerous for tourists to go into.

  There was a bar across the street from Eric’s hotel and he sat on the outdoor patio at a round wooden table, outdoor gas lamps giving a dim illumination around him. The smell of liquor called to him and he was finding it difficult to keep coming up with reasons to resist.

  As he rose to leave, he saw Thomas walk out of the hotel with another man. The man was dressed in shorts and a button-down shirt with an enormous belly bulging out from underneath. He had a black beard, curly hair, and appeared Greek with his olive skin. The men walked over and came to Eric’s table, Thomas sitting down and the man walking to the bar to order drinks.

  “So I believe you’ve had quite an eventful day,” Thomas said with a smirk.

  “Did you know she was going to do that?”

  “More or less.�
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  “I could’ve died.”

  “You shot poison into your veins for a year and now you’re worried about a fish?” Thomas took out his pipe, lighting it with some matches. “Besides, sharks—especially the great white—don’t enjoy the taste of human flesh. They only attack us out of mistake, despite the myths surrounding them.

  “But it wasn’t a joy ride you know. It was a ritual, a type of conquering of the sea. Many of the fishermen here had to do it while they were apprenticing. They do something similar where Jalani’s from. I was surprised she took you with her, she must really like you.”

  The other man came back with two large drinks and sat down. He had a joyous look on his face and already appeared drunk.

  “This is Douglas Patsinakis,” Thomas said. “He’ll be going on the hunt with us.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Douglas said with a wide grin. He held up his drink in salute. “Here’s to the hunt,” he said before guzzling half the glass. He finished and smacked his lips almost comically before wiping his mouth. “So how long have been hunting?” he asked Eric.

  “This’ll be my first time.”

  “Really? I wish I was a virgin again. The sights and smells of the plains and the Indian jungle are like nowhere else. I don’t even mind the heat when I’m out chasing a kill. You can lose yourself in it. It’s a damn good time.” He turned to Thomas. “So this monster of yours is a real man-eater, eh?”

  “So it seems.”

  “I killed a man-eater in Tsavo once, but it was a lion. They had those two man-eaters there, oh, more than a century ago. I would’ve loved to have been there. Together they killed about a hundred and forty people the devils.”

  “If rumor is to be believed,” Thomas said, “this one’s killed more.”

  “You think so?” Douglas said. “One animal?”

  “Probably not. Stories do tend to get aggrandized in this part of the world rather quickly.”

  “Well,” Douglas said, pausing to take a drink. “I hope the bastard’s a big one. But I was under the impression that you saw it Thomas?”

  “It was dark so I can’t attest perfectly to its size, but it was certainly large.”

  Douglas finished his drink and leaned back. “Damn good.” He looked to Eric. “So what’s your name my friend?”

  “Eric.”

  “Well Eric, let me tell you something about hunting; not everyone can do it. Everyone thinks they can but they can’t. When you’re face-to-face with a lion you have to dig down deep inside you to pull that trigger. They have a savage beauty about them and their eyes stare into you if you let them. You really see where you are on the food chain when a lion’s staring at you with those eyes.”

  “He’ll do fine,” Thomas said. “Killing comes naturally to him.”

  “Eh?” Douglas said. But Thomas didn’t answer. He and Eric simply looked to each other, their eyes locked a moment, and they looked away.

  Douglas looked to them both and then nodded as he stood up. “Well, I’m going to get drunk.”

  Eric waited until Douglas was out of earshot and then said, “You know?”

  Thomas nodded.

  “My mother?”

  “Yes.” He took a long pull from the pipe and then put out the embers before tucking it back into his pocket. “I nearly killed a man in Venice once. The city has a history of such bloodshed I suppose, so it wasn’t so out of place. But it is such a beautiful city I regret that I may never be able to go back.”

  “What happened?”

  “I was in love. A woman from a little town in Sicily. She sold fruit on the side of the road near my flat and I used to buy something from her every morning. I tell you, I haven’t committed an act of courage so great as using broken Italian to ask her to dinner. She loved me too I think. But I certainly loved her.”

  “You tried to kill her?”

  “No,” Thomas said, looking off at the sky, “her husband.”

  “Oh.”

  Thomas blinked a few times and inhaled a deep breath, as if the action cleared the thoughts from his mind. “How is your rehabilitation?”

  “It’s hard sometimes.”

  “It will pass. You fell into it from temporary vulnerability, so you can defeat it. I had a stint myself in Myanmar but I believe we’re both just casual users; users from pain.” He looked over to Douglas who was already drunk and flirting with some older American tourists. Thomas rose and put his hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Get rested, tomorrow you’ll become a hunter.”

  CHAPTER

  32

  Eric’s room was uncomfortably hot during the night and the squeaks of mammoth cockroaches were coming from the corners. The sun rose and quickly filled the room with flowing light, making it impossible to sleep. Eric was groggy but he stood up and stretched before looking out the window and seeing two green topless jeeps parked on the curb in front of the hotel. Some locals were loading them with suitcases and coolers and large plastic jugs of water.

  Eric dressed and walked down to the first floor bathroom. When he was done with his toiletries, he went to the small cafeteria and saw Thomas sitting with Douglas and two new faces. One of them was a man, possibly in his late forties, wearing a corduroy jacket with sunglasses pushed up into his blond hair. The other was a woman, blond and petite wearing tight stretch pants and a black blouse revealing a little cleavage. Though the temperature caused one to constantly have a thin film of sweat on their skin, she was fully colored in rouge and lipstick and eyeliner.

  Eric took a plate from a small buffet table and loaded it with eggs and toast before getting a cup of coffee and sitting down at Thomas’s table.

  Thomas smiled at him and said, “How was your night?”

  “Restless. It’s so hot I always feel dehydrated.”

  “You have to constantly drink water and limit your sodium while here.” He turned to the couple seated across from him. “This is Eric,” he said.

  “Pleased to meet you,” the man said with a warm smile, “I’m William Carthy and this is my wife Sandra.”

  Eric nodded hello and she smiled at him. The familiarity with which they greeted him made him suspect Thomas had already mentioned him.

  “So where are you from, Eric?” William said.

  “New Hampshire,” Eric said.

  “Oh really? We live in Boston now. I manage to get up to New Hampshire every autumn for the leaves. Beautiful state.”

  Thomas said, “William’s a Stake President in the Mormon church. Quite a damn fine one from what I hear.”

  “You’re too kind,” William said. He spoke in a soft voice; tender almost, and his eyes were friendly and unassuming.

  “I didn’t know the higher ups in the Church could marry,” Douglas said with a mouthful of eggs.

  “We’re not Catholics. Marriage and family are the cornerstone of our faith, of any faith really.”

  “Were you always Mormon?” Douglas said.

  “No, I converted in my twenties actually.”

  “Why’d you convert?”

  “Oh, thought I could do more good I suppose. Just had a calling.”

  Douglas scoffed. “All nonsense if you ask me. I’ve seen all manner of cruelties and very little compassion in the world. Doesn’t seem to point to God.”

  “Perhaps you’re not looking in the right places,” William said with a wry smile.

  One of the men loading the jeeps came in and said something to Thomas. He nodded and stood up. “The jeeps are ready. If you’d care to gather your things, we’ll be leaving within the hour. And if you’ll excuse me, I have a few things to attend to before we go.” He bowed his head slightly to Sandra. “Madame.”

  She smiled, looking at him just a bit longer than was proper.

  “I’ll come too,” Douglas said, sopping up the last of his eggs with a croissant and shoving it into his mouth. “Haven’t really gotten to see the town yet.”

  “Of course,” Thomas said, not taking his eyes of Sandra. “Have you had a
chance to see the town?” he said to her.

  “No, not really.”

  “It wouldn’t do any harm if you’d like to accompany us. I have to go down the shore a bit and it is a beautiful drive.”

  “Go ahead honey,” William said.

  “You don’t want to come?” she said.

  “No, you go. Have fun.”

  “All right,” she said.

  As they walked out William was watching his wife and had a glimmer in his eye. His deep love for her was written on his face.

  “She’s quite lovely, isn’t she?” William said.

  “Yeah.”

  “I ask the Lord sometimes why he blessed me with her. She’s a wonderful woman, full of life.” He took a bite of eggs and washed it down with cold juice. “You ever loved a woman, Eric?”

  “No. I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “What was her name?”

  “Wendy.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “I don’t know, New Hampshire still I think. I’m sure she’s moved on though.”

  “But you haven’t?”

  Eric looked at him but saw no maliciousness or prying. There was only the soft voice and the kind eyes. “No, I guess not. I don’t really know.”

  “Love makes up in height what it lacks in length. Frost said that somewhere I think. I’ve always thought it was true. You’re a better person for having loved a woman. And no doubt there’ll be others; you’re still a young man.”

  Eric bit into his eggs; they were soft and rubbery and he put down his fork and tried to remove the taste from his mouth with coffee. “So what’s a Stake President?”

  “We have different regions called Stakes. Like stakes in a tent. The tent is the Church and each Stake holds it in place. So I guess you could compare it to like a regional governor or something.”

  “Really? And you’re one?”

  William chuckled softly. “Don’t I look like it?”