Victor Methos - The Extinct

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.

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.” “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.”

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.