SURVIVIAL OF THE FITTEST

By Susan Zell

Disclaimers: See Chapter One

CHAPTER TWO

"Higher Ground"

Marguerite Krux stamped her foot to shake off an annoying large bug crawling on her boot. It fell to the grass and immediately made for safer ground. The heiress snarled at it and then adjusted her grip on the plant she was holding for Professor Arthur Summerlee.

"How much longer?" she demanded as she shook the little tree impatiently while glancing at rotund little man below her.

The elderly man squatting in the grass beside her looked up in alarm and held the tree steady. "Try not to traumatize the specimen, my dear. It is very delicate. It will be just another moment or two before we can lift it up."

The woman sighed and ceased her attempts to rip it from the ground a tad faster than the professor could dig. His skill with a spade left a great deal to be desired. Roxton would have had this tree up and wrapped in burlap over an hour ago. Straight away she burned that she had any thoughts of him at all, much less a kind one, after what he pulled.

That she was furious with was an understatement. He had gone too far this time, chastising her in front of everyone. What gall the man had? Living in close quarters for almost a year did not give him the right to pass judgment on her. She had not endangered the whole company, only herself. It was their own foolish sense of honor that had stopped the lot of them. She hadn't asked for Roxton to come back after her, nor the rest of the group to stop and wait. But damn the man for his sense of decency and damn the rest for thinking that meant for everyone to stop and help.

No one in her life had ever stopped to wonder what scheming she was up to. And she had liked it that way. She was free to do whatever she pleased. No one thought of her and she thought of no one but herself. But with these people, it was all for one and one for all. It was ridiculous and put her in a very bad position.

She regarded the small, white-haired man at her feet. Her anger faded. Professor Arthur Summerlee could no more leave a woman in danger, than he could dig any faster with his little spade. It was just the way he was and she should have remembered that before she had thought about the jewel. There wasn't one of them in this little band that would leave her to her own fate.

And she had best come to terms with it somehow.

The trouble was she knew what she had to do and she wasn't sure she was ready for it. At some point, for the good of everyone, she would have to think about more than just herself and her mission here. Her actions held consequence for all, not just herself. She'd have to open herself up.

And therein lay the danger. If she opened her heart even once, even for the likes of sweet, sweet Summerlee, she would be defenseless. Where one would enter so would others. And in her heart, she knew who would be next in line. That thought terrified her. She didn't need this, not one bit! What could she accomplish with a man like Roxton watching her, never letting her out of his sight? And how much could her defenses take against a man whose soul and sense of honor burned brighter than the sun? Eventually, she would be overwhelmed.

She had to open her eyes and her heart to this matter. Perhaps if she accepted the fact that they cared what happened to her and acted accordingly, she could stand fast against their affections. If she understood and knew what it was that drove them to their mad acts of protection she could work to avoid them and yet still be efficient in her mission. She had to be, otherwise her future was as blank and nameless as it was at this moment. She had opportunity here, not just with finding her past but her future as well.

But to care about these people wasn't conducive to her plans. It would work against her, and she knew it. Yet she needed them. That she had to admit to herself. This world was far more savage than she had thought. They had told her, true, but a small part of her had not believed them. Or at least she believed that she could control the situation. How wrong she had been.

Professor George Challenger approached dispersing her thoughts. He looked remarkably pleased with himself as he carried a large potted fern. Great, she thought, more stuff to carry back to the treehouse. She glanced over at the multitudes of samples that lay crowded around the camp from this impromptu excursion.

For an instant she regretted not going with Roxton and the rest to scout for food. It would have been far less work, she surmised. All they were doing were walking around and shooting at things. That appealed to her far more than she would admit. But it was the amount of walking and whom she would be walking with that deterred her on that front. The three people who held grudges the longest.

After all, Veronica still hadn't forgiven her for that whole Jacobi thing when they had first arrived. She would have made a beautiful bride, and besides, she could have come with them after Jacobi had given them the route off the plateau. It's not like she would have had to stay and be a wife to that fat chief. And Malone always sided with the huntress with his puppy dog eyes, weak man that he was. And Roxton...Roxton... She shook her head. He would just batter at her defenses with the sweet hand of friendship and compassion, constantly attempting to get her to open up.

No, sitting with the harmless professors, who were very easily distracted from such emotional matters, was the safer bet. They never seemed to hold a grudge, so long as you pulled your weight. Or pulled up a tree as the case may be.

She wiggled the tree a bit more while Summerlee was talking to Challenger about the new arrival, a bouncing baby fern. Apparently it was old and extinct. Hmmm, she bit her lip and refused to make any kind of analogy. It was far too easy.

No, she was definitely better off here with the professors than with the others.

"Stay together," commanded the lithe huntress as she pulled her knife from its sheath. It came free with a small hiss of metal against metal. Sabertooths generally went after game that was injured or old or in their case low in number. With only three members to their party, they weren't much of a threat, but she hoped that by staying close together it would also offer them the illusion of being a larger foe than before.

The bolt on Roxton's rifle slid backward and then forward, placing a bullet in the chamber. He knew that the great beasts could burst forth from the tall grass at any given moment; there would be little time to aim much less prime his weapon before the slashing claws and teeth would be upon them. He was relieved when he heard Malone do the same on his weapon.

Malone's gut was in knots. This kind of adventure did not hold the same allure as those depicted in the hundreds of pennydreadfuls he had read back in London. Where once he wished to be holding back an army of pirates with a single bare blade, defending the honor of some blonde damsel, now he only wished to have a heavy cannon at his command. Sadly, it would be more likely that the blonde beauty beside him would protect him.

He was bound to perish in this hellish place. He was no adventurer. Just like Roxton's older brother, the quiet learned one. It had been in all the society papers, how he had met his demise on the Dark Continent.

John Roxton was a reluctant lord who held a title that should never have been his. While trying to push his elder, but more hesitant sibling William into a life of adventure, a tragic accident occurred. On safari in Africa, when a great ape attacked his brother, John Roxton shot the beast, but the bullet crashed through the ape and also claimed the life of William. To this day Roxton remained wracked by tragedy and grief, always searching for some sort of peace in battle or in death.

Malone had no doubt that he would suffer from the same terrible fate one day. He could only imagine what the papers would say about him. And how would Gladys take the news? With wracking sobs perhaps for her lost love? Or with pride that her Neddy had finally found his adventure and perished heroically? Probably neither. No one would ever know that he was about to be eaten by a million year old cat.

Not really heroic at all come to think of it.

"What's the quickest way out of here, Veronica?" Roxton abruptly demanded.

The young woman pointed directly east toward the far base of the mountain. "If we could make it to those hills, it would give us a better advantage."

Roxton nodded. The ground was open with a great deal of visibility and they'd have the benefit of having a hill at their backs. It was defensible position. "Move," he commanded. "Quickly."

With any luck the pride was after something else in the lowland and they would hardly give the three humans a glance. But it was too quiet. No large herbivores grazed in the distance. They were all alone out here it seemed.

Roxton kept his eyes trained on the grass trying to discern movement where there shouldn't be, all the while steadily following after the two younger members of their party. He spoke to them quietly while they moved, instructing them on how to survive.

"If they rush, it will be fast. They've already selected one of us as their target and they'll concentrate on that prey. Fire as soon as you target one, don't let them near us, otherwise it'll be close quarter fighting, and our pistols will be pea shooters unless you manage to shoot them directly into the heart or the head. Veronica, you stay between us."

He wasn't being gallant, the huntress knew. Her simple knife would be almost ineffectual until in close quarters, which is what they wanted to avoid. She could throw it with unerring accuracy but once thrown it would be lost to her and that would be bad since there were other sabertooths waiting in the wings. No, it was best to rely on the two men, help be their eyes and hope their aim was true.

Their movement through the grass seemed loud and raucous. The sabertooths would have no trouble tracking their prey. The ambush could come at any moment; the beasts would soon realize that their meal was heading for the high ground and they would attack long before that.

"Check your rounds," commanded Roxton of Malone.

"Five in the rifle. Three in my belt," answered Malone, his eyes darting every where but saw nothing except a tranquil plain. It didn't reassure him. "Pistol is fully loaded."

"I've got about that and another round at my belt."

"How many lions to a pack usually?" Malone wanted to know how many they were up against.

"More than you want to know. Anywhere from one to thirty in a pride."

"Great."

"Just stay sharp, Neddy boy, and keep your eyes and ears open."

Veronica spied a sudden shift in the grass and all she had time to do was shout out a warning before the great toothed cat lunged out of the high grass no more than three yards from them.

tbc