James Rollins - Altar Of Eden

The scoutmaster looked stunned. “Why wasn’t I told about-”

By now, Gar’s team had arrived. The men came puffing up, rifles in hand. Gar seemed to draw strength from their numbers. He lifted an arm. “Now let’s all calm down. I heard about that report, too. Big cat or not, there’s no way a jaguar covered that much ground in a single day. So let’s not get all riled up just because some kid jumps at his own shadow.”

The scoutmaster looked unsure. The camp was his responsibility.

“I’ll send some of my guys out to take a look,” Gar assured him. “If there’s anything in the woods, they’ll find it.”

His men grinned, readying their weapons.

“You do that,” Stella said. “But I’m still moving the campers over to the cabin.”

Gar looked ready to argue-then simply shrugged. “Fine. I’ll go with you. Make sure there’s no other trouble.” He glared at the boy, then turned and ordered his men to sweep the neighboring forest.

Stella swung back to the camp leader. “Get all the children together. As quickly and quietly as possible.”

He nodded. In a matter of minutes, children and adults were gathered into neat groups. En masse, they set off across the farm, traversing the boardwalks. Kids chattered excitedly. Adults looked worried or annoyed.

Stella led them, with Gar trailing behind. As much as she despised the man, she appreciated his shotgun at her back. She kept watch on the forest to either side. Nothing seemed amiss. Bullfrogs croaked, fireflies flickered, and mosquitoes buzzed and dive-bombed. Still, she felt a prickling along the nape of her neck, as if something were staring at her out of the dark forest.

She was relieved to clamber up the stairs to the family cabin. The home was large, and though it would be cramped, it should hold everyone. Her parents met her on the porch.

“What’s happening?” her father asked. “What’s all the commotion?”

Stella related what she knew.

With a crinkled brow of concern, her mother wiped her hands on her apron, then waved to the children. “Let’s get everyone inside. I can make a big batch of hot chocolate.”

Stella kept to the porch as a parade of children filed into the house, following her mother like a gaggle of goslings. Many faces were pinched with worry, while others grinned at the excitement of it all.

Her father joined her. “You made the right call, Stell. Peg will get those young’uns settled. But what’re the odds that cat really is out there?”

Gar climbed up to the porch. “Don’t matter none. My boys are scouting the woods. If that cat’s out there, they’ll take care of its sorry ass.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Hell, it’s only a damn cat.”

As if summoned by his words, a shape dropped out of the dark forest on the far side of the ponds. It landed on one of the boardwalks and stood dead still, crouched low to the planks, practically filling the space. Its eyes reflected the moonlight, staring straight at them.

“Holy Mother of God…” Stella’s father gasped out.

Gar fell back a step, while scrambling his shotgun to his shoulder.

“Don’t!” Stella warned.

Gar fired. The blast deafened, smoke flowed from the barrel. It was a stupid potshot, a panicked knee jerk. There was no way he could hit the cat at that distance. Gar expelled the smoking cartridge and one-handedly pumped in another load. But he was already too late.

The beast’s long tail swished once in agitation, then in a burst of muscle, it swung around and dove back into the forest.

“Everyone inside,” her father said. “Gar, call your men back. We need every weapon here to protect the kids.”

Out in the woods, a spat of rifle blasts cracked. A single bloodcurdling scream followed. The three of them remained frozen on the porch. The dark forest went silent. Even the frogs had gone quiet.

Gar kept his cheek pressed to the butt of his shotgun.

“Joe!” Stella’s mother called from inside.

“Into the house,” her father ordered.

As they began to retreat, a new noise sliced through the quiet: a sharp whining. It came from the other side of the house, where the farm’s dock and fuel station jutted into a deepwater channel.

“An airboat!” Stella said.

Someone was coming.

Hopefully with lots of guns.

UNCLE JOE WADED across the great room of the cabin through a sea of children sitting on the floor or huddled in small groups. Wide eyes stared at him. Scoutmasters called out questions, but he was deaf to them. He focused on the large stone fireplace that filled the back wall. To either side, wide windows looked out toward the rear of the house, toward the docks.

He led his daughter and the sheriff’s son across the room.

Gar headed to one window with his walkie-talkie at his lips, shouting for someone to answer him.

Were any of his men still alive out there?

He and Stella moved to the other window, taking up a post shoulder to shoulder. Inside the cabin, they could no longer hear the whine of the airboat. He reached the window and stared out. There was no sign of the boat, only the lights of the dock reflecting off the black water.

What if it wasn’t headed here?

He had no way to radio out. After the storm, they’d been having trouble with the shortwave, a common problem whenever the temperature ran through such extremes. Humidity condensed inside the equipment, wreaking havoc with their reception. The warning call had barely been audible. The radio had shut down completely after that. He’d been meaning to fix it but hadn’t gotten around to it.

He studied the waterway, the only channel into or out of the farm.

The canal was narrow and twisted, but he’d had it dredged deep enough to accommodate the larger tenders that ferried cruise-ship passengers to the farm. To either side, the forest had been groomed to look especially picturesque. The underbrush had been cleared to accentuate the size and majesty of the old-growth cypresses. Flowering plants, strategically placed, added to the beauty, as did the manicured beds of water lilies along both shorelines.

“There!” Stella burst out and pointed.

A sharp light bloomed into existence far down the channel, flickering between trees.

“Two of them!” Stella said, noting a second glow. “They must be heading here!”

“Stay by the window. I’ll go down to the dock.”

“Daddy, no. At least wait until they’re closer. And take Gar with you.”

He hesitated. The first airboat appeared around a bend in the canal. It sailed in a smooth arc, propelled by the giant fan at its stern. Its searchlight speared straight at the cabin, blinding them. He lifted a hand to shield against the brightness.

As the airboat raced at full speed toward the dock, the second appeared behind it, riding the wake of the first. Rising and falling, its light played wildly.

The only warning was a sharp gasp from his daughter.

He blinked against the glare, catching sight of something large leaping out of the woods and flying high. It struck the pilot of the lead air-boat and ripped him out of his seat. Pilot and cat went crashing into the water on the far side, splashing into a bed of water lilies. Before the first wave even washed up onto the bank, the cat bounded out of the shallows and back into the woods. A body floated on its stomach in the water. Its head bobbed farther out in the lilies.

“Daddy!”

Stella pointed back to the empty airboat. Momentum carried it like a missile straight toward the dock.

“The fuel tank!”

The airboat hit the dock at full speed. Its nose shot high as it flew up over the edge. Its underside struck the upright fuel pump and tore it from its stanchions. Gas sprayed as the boat landed atop it, sliding with a scrape of metal on metal. A pole toppled over, shattering an electric lantern.