Victor Methos - The Extinct

The beast howled to its clan and they strutted over, and began to feed.

Eric sat with his back against a wall of the attic, Jalani asleep in his arms. She had smears of dirt on her face and clothes but her beauty still shined through like an emerald gleaming through water. He had no watch but could guess that it was probably three or four in the morning. He’d been hearing howls and laughter all night. The hyenas weren’t leaving; they would circle the house, sometimes coming inside and occasionally coming into the room below them.

Eric forewent sleep and stayed up until sunrise. The sun came through the window and filled the attic with streams of warm light. Swirls of dust were in every beam and it had the smell of mildew.

The attic was small and dirty, cluttered with old papers and clothes from vacationers not terribly worried about leaving behind personal items. There was some lingerie in a corner coated with a thick layer of dust and cardboard boxes filled with old paperback novels, brushes, matchbooks, toiletries, and a few office supplies. In the north corner was a stool and a three gallon plastic container of gasoline.

Jalani awoke and smiled when she saw him. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, a grave expression coming over her face when the realities of her circumstances dawned on her and she realized it wasn’t a dream. “Did you not sleep?” she asked. “I’m fine.” “You can sleep now if you like.” “No, I’m okay.” He glanced around his surroundings. “We should empty those boxes and see if we can find anything useful.”

They went about the task of dumping the contents of all the boxes onto the bare floor. Soon, hardly any portion of the floor was visible. A hunting knife was in one box and Eric tucked it into his waistband. They found an old pack of gum and each had a piece, the gum stale and tasting like dust. Eventually everything was emptied on to the floor and examined. There was little they could use. “We’ll need to leave here soon,” Eric said, walking to the window and glaring out. “I think they’ve already left.” “They won’t leave.” He turned to her. “How do you know?” “We’ve killed one of their clan. They will not leave until we are dead.” Eric turned back to the window. He noticed something out near the grass: a white shirt and boots. They were Thomas’s boots. “Stay here,” Eric said, running to the latch. He opened the latch and went to climb down.

Jalani grabbed him and screamed, “No!” She pulled him up just as massive jaws snapped shut below his feet. It jumped again, the snout coming up through the latch and pushing his leg but not getting hold of it.

Eric grabbed the latch and locked it. They crawled to the other side of the room and listened as the hyena thumped his snout against the wood, growling and biting at the latch.

Jalani wrapped her arms around him and they sat in silence, listening to the growls fade and the patter of the creature’s footsteps as it exited the room and left the house.

“What the hell is that thing,” Eric said.

“I told you,” she said, leaning her head against him, “they are demons.”

They sat in the corner most of the day, talking about what America was like, Jalani telling him that it was her dream to one day live there. Eric told her about the foliage of New England and its changing colors over the seasons, how the mountain by his home looked like someone had spilled brown and yellow paint over it. He told her about school and his mother. And he told her about his stepfather and the reason he fled the country.

Jalani accepted it without reaction. Eric figured she’d seen so much death in her life, something that could be justifiable wasn’t a big deal. The only thing she said was, “Was it really an accident?”

“Yes,” Eric said, “I think it was.”

She seemed satisfied with his answer and they spoke of other things.

Soon their bellies ached with hunger and their lips were cracking from lack of water. Out here, even indoors, dehydration could occur after hours, not days. Eric stood up and looked out the window. Asleep on the ground was one of the hyenas. It lay on its side, its belly moving up and down in shallow breaths. “We need to get out of here,” Eric said. “How?” “This window. We can climb out onto the roof and maybe sneak away.” “They would hear us.” “It’s better than staying here to die.” Eric grabbed the stool that sat in the corner and slammed it against the window, shattering the glass. “Stay here,” Eric said.

He climbed out of the small window, cutting his hands on the shards of glass that had scattered on the pane. The roof was tiled with shingles and was clean, no debris and little dirt. He walked carefully along the side, going up to the middle of the roof which ended in a point and surveyed the land around him.

The jeeps were off about a hundred yards, through a thick patch of grass. Only the sides had been damaged. If they could get to one and tip it over it should still be in running condition.

One of the hyenas stepped out of the house and looked up to the roof. It roared at the sight of Eric and Eric stumbled backward and nearly fell. He made his way to the window and climbed in as the hyena began to pace back and forth in front of the house. “I found a way out,” Eric said as he climbed in. “If we can make it to the jeeps they should still be running.” “How are we going to do that?” “I don’t know yet,” Eric said.

He stared at the animals in the front yard. There were two of them there now. The heat was getting to them as well. They were panting heavily and their mouths were dry. One of them went and laid in the shade of the tree, glancing up occasionally at the house and then putting his head back on the ground.

The other sat in front of the house, and stared at the window.

Eric scavenged the items in the attic once more and didn’t find much that was useful. Jalani lay on her side and watched him, her slim figure a perfect outline of the feminine shape. Eric was reminded again of just how exotically beautiful she was. It was amazing to him that she was a hunter for a living. When he thought of a hunter, he thought of Thomas, or the tough-as-leather fisherman off the coast of Mexico. Not a small, frail young woman that could’ve just as easily been on a runway as in the plains of India. “Maybe there is food in the basement?” she said. Eric froze. “These houses have basements?” “Yes.” He glanced around; everything was made of wood. “Are the stairs leading down to the basement made of wood?” “I do not know.”

Eric ran to the window and looked down. The sun was still high and they had hours of light left. The hyenas were both under the shade of the tree, watching a flock of birds in the sky. “You have to climb out there and draw their attention,” he said. “What?” “Just yell and throw stuff at ‘em.” “Why?” “I’m going to the basement.” “Are you crazy?”

“I’m not letting us die in this dirty little room, Jalani.” He put his arm around her and pressed his lips to hers. “Please,” he said.

Jalani climbed out the window and Eric handed her armfuls of things to throw. He leaned out the window and kissed her again and as he turned away she grabbed him.

“Be careful,” she said.

“I will. Just keep them off me a few minutes.”

Jalani began yelling and the hyenas growled and approached. They stood watching, mouths agape with yellow, jagged teeth. Jalani took a brush and threw it, missing. One hyena walked to the brush and sniffed it, turning back to Jalani.

She took a paperback novel and hit him in the head. The animal let out a ferocious roar that drew another hyena out of the house.