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6 months after the Season 2 Finale, but WAY before the 10-year time jump...

Jackson lifted the rifle, scanning the tall grasses on every side of him for the slightest movement. Luckily, the day was quiet, the wind absent, the heat driving most of the animals and insects into silence. He took another slow step forward, heel to ball, careful to avoid making any small sound, drawing any unwelcome attention his direction. He was alone out here. No backup.

Abe and Dariela had left the camp a week ago, right after the first wave of hybrids had hit the shores of South Africa. She was due in a few months time and considering the danger these new animals posed, they had made the wise decision to flee back to the states. At least there, military troops had begun to set up safe zones, seeing the writing in the sand after first South America, then Mexico had been overrun.

He wished them luck.

Jackson should have followed. Instead, he'd decided to stay. He had told Abe it was because he felt safest here, that Africa was his home, and he wouldn't leave his mother again. Abe had bought it. It wasn't the truth. Jackson, deep down, wanted to die. Well, that wasn't really true either. He just didn't want to live anymore. Now that everything was done, the animals were saved and the TX-14 gas dropped, his father's master plan revealed, and his friends scattered to the wind, the loss of Chloe hung with him. A promise stolen from him. A life and family never realized, but hoped for, just gone. And any chance of a family with another woman, also snatched, though that didn't bother him as much. He loved Chloe.

Suddenly, the rustle of tall weeds scratched, drawing his focus back to the present. Something was moving toward him. Something large. Something fast. He paused, frozen in place. Very fast. And definitely more than one. Bouncing to his toes, he looked as far across the plain as he could. In a wide vee spreading out from his location, the grass wasn't just shaking, it was bending, breaking.

"Shit," he yelled, startling some birds from a nearby tree into flight, as he flung himself to the ground. Rifle forgotten, he curled into a ball, hands wrapped over his neck.

The pack of lionesses streamed past him, giving him a berth, though he could still feel their soft hides brush the hair of his arm. Not a one stopped to consider him, sniff him or otherwise. It was a bad sign. Whatever was chasing them, was far more terrifying than he was. Or, rather, was far more terrifying than they were. As the final cat scampered away, he stood, retrieved his rifle, looked at the crumpled flora around him and then in the direction the lions had come.

The first howl startled him. He expected the others.

Sprinting toward the first tree he saw, he quickly climbed the branches as high up as he could, settling between two branches. He braced a leg against one, resting his elbow on his knee. Thanks to some intrepid giraffes, he had a clear view of the lower branches and ground. He lifted the rifle to his shoulder and waited, willing his arms to hold out long enough. He had a camp to protect. Not much in the way of people, per se, but stock full of fond memories.

And he wasn't going to go down without a fight. Suicide was one thing, sacrificing yourself for the greater good was another. Mitch had been right, so many months ago, when he'd confronted Jackson about his repressed memories of his father. Chloe had died trying to save the world. Now, it was his turn. He was going to eliminate as much of the new threat as he could.

He let the lead hybrid enter the clearing without firing a shot. A second and third followed. Holding his breath, he waited. They moved cautiously, bumping hips and shoulders, giggling low, lolling tongues falling from open mouths as they nipped at one another, almost playfully. Just like hyenas, Jackson realized as he studied them, forgetting for the moment that he was supposed to kill as many as possible before getting killed himself.

The assumption had been made that these were wolf hybrids, but considering what he saw here, Jackson had some serious doubts. Since the only dead hybrids found - the living ones dragging off their perished companions - were basically random parts and not a single live one ever captured, all of the scientific "research" conducted on the new species was based on a lot of conjecture. And from his new perspective, those conjectures were wrong.

There had been a handful of questions raised by the government at the beginning, once Jackson, Jamie, Abe, and Dariela had spilled the beans about that secret island and the scientists who had worked and lived there. Most, surprisingly, had been focused on the hybrids. Especially, their design and creation. Though, at that time no one had predicted that the animals would escape and spread so rapidly around the world. The possibility of that had never been considered and now it was too late. Yet, watching as he did, this group of fifteen hybrids tracking and hunting their prey, Jackson had some ideas about how exactly these creatures had multiplied and overrun the planet in a few short months.

Hyenas were female-dominated, clans easily reaching upwards of fifty animals across swaths of Africa, however very fluid. Which meant that the clan members separated and rejoined at will, depending on resources. And, being female oriented, the number of young that survived was much higher than those mammals where females either raised their young alone or in a male-dominated hierarchy.

Jackson smirked at the thought. Explained the inexplicable population explosion they had seen on the island. And, the ferocity. Hyenas were incredibly territorial.

The group below him moved on after fully exploring the clearing. Though one had sniffed where he'd been crouched on the ground, even lifting her head to scent the dry air, he was surprised none of them had taken notice of him in the tree. With the heat baking down, he knew he had to smell.

It was curious and damn him, he needed some answers before finishing what he'd started. Perhaps it was the latent biologist in him. He scoffed at the thought. After seeing everything his father had done in the name of science, he had tried to distance himself as much as possible from the title. Abe, instead, moved by Mitch's final sacrifice, had enrolled at the local university, starting his first biology classes via spotty Internet connection three months ago.

Climbing down from the tree when the hybrids had moved off far enough to give him a chance, he shouldered his rifle and tracked after them.

Chloe would wait. She would understand, he told himself.