SURVIVIAL OF THE FITTEST
By Susan Zell
Disclaimers: See Chapter One
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Long Walk Home"
Morning struck far faster than any of them believed. For all of them, exhaustion still beat at their every muscle. Each ached and bore the scars of the previous days' adventure and a long day yet still loomed ahead of them. The dawn was bright and dry, the heat quickly rising even though the sun was nowhere near its zenith. Another day ridden with drought, driving poor beasts to desperate acts and forcing all denizens of the plateau to fight for their lives.
Veronica darted down off the cliff wall and alighted to the ground. She handed the signaling mirror back to Malone.
"Did they see it?" he asked.
"There was no answering signal. The camp might be too low in the valley, the cover too thick. It's a probably bet we're on our own."
"Any sign of the cats?" inquired Roxton as he stiffly gained his feet. He felt it best to move around and get his muscles used to the activity. It was a long walk home.
Veronica shook her head. "They're either still hiding in the grass or maybe they've moved on."
"You really think so?" Malone asked hopefully.
Roxton laid a hand on the lad's shoulder, as much to placate him as to lean on him for balance. "I'll wager they'll still there. Waiting."
"Are they that intelligent?"
"Hunger will make them so."
"Challenger would call that a method of evolution."
"I suppose it is. And they'll pass down any new hunting methods to their young." Roxton smiled wryly. "So long as it works." He picked up his rifle. "I don't know about you lot, but I'm not ready to be something in a lesson book for a sabertooth cub."
"Me neither," agreed Malone.
"Good lad."
"How's the leg?" inquired Veronica.
"It stopped bleeding, though it will most likely start up again once we get moving." His irritation at that fact was obvious.
"Well, keep my belt as a tourniquet; you may need it by the end of the day." Her knife would not leave her hand today regardless. She glanced up the cliff wall with a bit of longing. It would have made sense to start their journey there and head around the camp and the sabertooths most likely waiting right outside the zareba.
Roxton stepped up beside her. "I'm still game if you are. I can make that climb given enough motivation, which I think the cats have provided in spades."
Veronica regarded him and his pant leg coated in dried blood. She shook her head. "It's a tough climb, even for me. A lot of loose shale. It's not our last resort."
"Not yet."
Offering the hunter a rueful frown, she shrugged. "I'd rather not doctor any broken bones from a fall. Stitching you up was bad enough. Right now we're all walking, let's not risk it by taking an unnecessary tumble."
"Are you saying he's clumsy?" asked Malone, coming up beside the two of them. There was a definite twinkle in the reporter's eye.
"Watch it, Neddy boy," Roxton snarled. He was well known for taking an unexpected trip or two, but he didn't like being reminded of that fact, especially in front of the ladies.
But there was no fear in Malone's face as he grinned and handed Roxton his hat. Roxton smirked at his young friend and slapped him good-naturedly on his shoulder. Veronica chuckled, enjoying the light banter. If it was one thing that amazed her about her new companions was that they always used humor to lighten a situation. She hadn't experienced that since her parent's disappearance. She didn't realize she had missed it so much.
"Are we ready?" she asked.
Roxton worked the bolt back on his rifle and Malone did the same.
"Let's go home," Roxton commanded. They moved closer to the edge of the zareba, their gazes stretched out to the grass beyond, searching for their enemy.
Malone pulled apart a section of the thorny barricade. He half expected a flood of fur and teeth to pour through. But nothing happened. Roxton trained his rifle sights out beyond the zareba, searching for movement, but there was nothing.
He nodded for Malone to go through. Veronica would walk between them, covered by the two rifles. Each held their breath as they passed through the barrier that had kept them safe through the long night. Now they were in the open again and vulnerable.
Every nerve along Veronica's spine twitched; she couldn't quell the sensation. Instinct was screaming at her to stay where she was in the safe arms of their small camp. But with such limited supplies she knew their only logical option was to leave now before they grew too weak or used up their short supply of ammunition and miniscule amount of water.
Malone's fingers gripped the stock of his rifle. His eyes darted everywhere for each bush seemed filled to the brim with the enemy, watching and waiting for them to make a mistake. The cuts along his chest burned as much from clenched muscles as from the ripped skin. He made a conscious effort to relax; Roxton always told him to not be so tense. It made for panic and hasty judgments. He wanted to look behind him to check on his friends but he knew that any distraction was like ringing a dinner bell to their adversaries. They would immediately take the advantage.
"Don't lag behind," murmured Veronica over her shoulder but without taking her gaze from her surroundings.
"I have no intention of lagging behind," Roxton assured her. "And if I do you'll hear about it, trust me. I may be a stiff upper lipped lord at times, but I'm not dim-witted."
"Well, to hear Marguerite tell it...."
"She would be mistaken," countered Roxton sharply. Anger blossomed a moment within his breast at the thought of the raven-haired woman spinning yet another tale of mischief and mendacity, but than it faded to a warm glow. That was Marguerite's way, anything to ward off someone trying to get close. That included Veronica. The two women had a great deal in common and if they would just give it a chance, a close friendship could be formed between them.
Roxton understood Marguerite far too well. He could tell a defensive posture all too well in a hunted animal. She was a calculating and cunning woman and rarely said things that wouldn't serve a purpose. In this case, it was just another means to keep them at arm's length. Challenger once likened her to a frilled lizard called a chlamydosaurus, which displays its brightly colored frill to frighten enemies. She played the vain, arrogant heiress but it was all an act, Roxton thought at times. There was vulnerability in her that was crystal clear to the hunter. Maybe because he saw that fear in so many of the creatures he hunted. Rarely was an animal malicious. They were merely trying to survive. He saw it a hundred times in their eyes. And he saw the same thing in Marguerite's eyes sometimes. She was fighting for her life here. He could feel it.
They found a trail and followed it through, aiming for home as best they could. Navigating was difficult in the heavy canopied jungle, but occasionally through the breaks in the foliage a distant landmark could be discerned or the sun's position could be seen.
Still they were well over two hours from where they had left the others when Veronica stopped and signaled the others to do the same. She let the sounds of the jungle wash over her, listening for anything that was out of place. Something was. The birds and other animals were suddenly silent.
Roxton's rifle hefted higher in his arms and he made a slow circular arc around them, searching for the danger. Malone followed his companions' leads.
"Where is it?" he asked nervously.
Veronica shook her head.
The thicker vegetation enabled the predator to remain concealed. It could literally come at them from any angle, but the wider trail still made for better conditions than in the waist high sea of grass they had previously left. It had been a miracle they had survived that encounter. The danger was still great. But with any luck the sabertooths, used to hunting on the plain, were not as skilled in hunting in the jungle. Roxton was surprised they had followed them at all. Only desperation was forcing them to stray so far from their usual hunting grounds, much like the explorers had done yesterday.
But depending on how many in the pride followed after them would determine whether the explorers would make it back home alive. Of course, it might not be the cats that were stalking them now either. It could easily be raptors or apemen or cannibals. The list was too numerous to run through.
Then a sabertooth sprang from the brush behind Roxton. He barely made the arc with his rifle before the animal was barreling down the trail. Less than a leap away, Roxton fired and it caved in and fell to the vegetation laden floor. Roxton started backing up as he saw two more pacing in the flora beyond. Malone followed his lead but held his fire since they didn't seem to be attacking. He had stepped up beside Roxton to cover the animals, leaving Veronica safe behind them.
"Back up," Roxton commanded and soon they were all three moving down the trail with their attention centered behind them as the big cats warily came out after them. They didn't seem interested in taking the offensive suddenly as if the sabertooths had finally realized the futility of it, but were too hungry to just walk away from a meal.
It was then Roxton realized something was amiss. He had witnessed cooperative hunting tactics on the African plains that drove the prey into the claws of other pride members waiting in ambush.
He shouted out, "Behind us!"
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the snarls and roars of three other big cats filled the air as they leaped for Veronica, now in the lead.
She leapt aside and the first big cat missed her by inches. The crack of Malone's rifle filled the air as he fired directly into the heart of the foremost beast. Roxton's echoed after and it fell. Veronica took the risk and threw her knife into the heart of the last. Then she ran for the nearest tree; she was too much of a liability on the ground. Roxton fired on the remaining beast that made a crazed leap for the climbing Veronica, a large knife protruding from its chest. A huge paw with claws extended almost snagged her foot, but it was shoved aside as a bullet crashed through its ribcage.
Roxton swung immediately back to the sabertoothed beasts that had been pacing behind him. They were charging as well now, eager to join their brethren in the hunt. He shot at the nearest one and sent it crashing back into the jungle, screaming in agony and shock. The second one realized the futility of the kill and darted away to safety. Malone's rifle fired twice after it.
"Don't waste your shots," Roxton huffed. Exhaustion was already beginning to beat at him. It had been a long fruitless hunt to begin with and this prolonged march for survival was taking its toll on all of them. His leg throbbed with the rapid beating of his heart. Blood was flowing freely again through the wound. He could feel it dripping warm against his cold leg.
Veronica hopped down from the tree and recovered her knife once again. "How much ammunition do we have left?" She wasn't a fool; she knew that they had expended quite a bit already, and they were still a fair piece from the safety of the camp.
Roxton was blunt about it. "Not enough."
"Are we going to make it?" Malone asked.
The hunter smiled at the younger man. It was weary and drawn but it still offered his companions a bit of hope. "Don't be daft, man. Of course we are."
Roxton had a way of doing that. No matter the odds or the direness of the situation, Lord Roxton never admitted defeat and never once saw their survival as anything but absolute. Such confidence seeped into the others and kept them moving as they once again began their march.
The sun was just starting to rise over the eastern horizon, which was identifiable to Marguerite, not by the sun's bright rays, but by the raucous greeting of every bloody creature on the plateau. The noise was deafening. Her gaze immediately scanned the camp for their missing companions. It was easy to see they had not snuck in under the cover of night after her last watch.
With a colorful curse, Marguerite rose and bushed all kinds of detritus from her evenings' sojourn on the hard ground. Summerlee was still asleep, poor thing, but Challenger was coming toward her, his rifle slung over his shoulder. He looked tired and as frustrated as her. The thoughts of the sabertooth gnawed bones had consumed him all night.
"We're going to look for them?" she asked a tad tersely.
"Yes. At best we'll merely meet them on the trail somewhere."
Marguerite didn't allow herself to think about what would be the worse case scenario, mainly because she had already done so all night long.
"Rouse Summerlee, if you please, Marguerite. I will break camp. I've made a small cold breakfast. You both can eat along the way."
"How thoughtful," she muttered. Nuts, berries, or worse dried, cold, raptor meat. Another fine day of dining, she mocked silently. Damn you, Roxton, you better have one hell of an excuse for making me suffer so. Her stomach was in knots, but it wasn't because of the food.
Within the hour they were heading down the path that Challenger was sure would lead them to their lost friends. He realized that any one of a hundred reasons could have made them take another trail. But it was all they had left to go on. Marguerite had left a note at the campsite indicating that they would spend the next day or two searching for them. Then they would head for the treehouse in case anyone ended up there and wait for a signal. It was a routine that most of them were comfortable with. The jungle was too huge to permit anything more in terms of a rescue party. The signaling mirrors weren't quite the boon Challenger had hoped. He would have to work on perfecting the concept sometime soon, but the foliage was just too full and dense to work with, unless you were up high enough to cast the signal and also receive it. And it was too sporadic and chancy to actually manage to do both at exactly the same time.
Marguerite sidled up to him, causing him to cast aside his musings. She looked angry. But then she always looked angry.
"Those bones yesterday," she began, "why the worry? They were old, weren't they?"
Challenger shrugged. "Not necessarily. The plateau has become exceedingly efficient at cleaning and bleaching bones before their time. A single roach could have reduced those poor souls back there to nothing in just a few hours time."
Marguerite shuddered. The creature Challenger was talking about was everywhere around here and it was far larger than the largest variety to stalk London. She had once found one in their food supply and had screamed for over a minute flat when it moved toward her. Thankfully, Roxton had been there with this hunting knife and pinned the four foot creature to the barrel. Summerlee had been so excited he mounted the bloody thing, until he realized it was not rare. Not rare at all. It had about four billion brethren running around the sorry plateau.
"But you said it was a sabertooth that ate them," she continued.
"Sabertooths are voracious eaters, yes, but they won't pick the bones completely clean. The insects did that. I'm just pointing out that those bones may only be a few days old instead of a few years old."
Suddenly Marguerite felt sorry for the camp they had discovered. No one would ever know who they were or what happened to them, or if they knew a way off the plateau. "So your saying that sabertooths are in the area," she concluded.
"Quite possibly."
"This isn't their hunting ground. They like it flat and scrubby."
"True. But this drought can certainly cause some interesting events to transpire out of the norm. They are well out of their range."
"You think that's what happened to Roxton and the others?" There was a distinct rise in her fear level.
Challenger reached out a hand and touched hers gently. "That and a variety of other things, my dear. Let's not start panicking yet."
"Oh, I'm long past panicking," she muttered.
Tbc
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