xXx
Creed's animal senses kicked into overdrive; he felt and tasted the jungle as he pushed through, on the edge of rage and frustration, ready to kill. The forty foot headstart Kravinoff had begun with was rapidly narrowed down. Kravinoff was fast, and he knew the trail, but Creed's senses drew him along the trail with a force few sentient creatures could understand. Ahead, a clearing. Creed bounded, no longer even running. Kravinoff reached the clearing first, launched himself through the air, caught a vine and climbed. If Creed had been slower he might have lost the trail.
But he was not slow. He leaped and caught the vine too—
Kravinoff let go of that vine and snatched to one next to it; under Creed's weight, the vine tore loose of the tree above, and Creed tumbled down ten feet to the trail. He landed easily on his feet—
smashed through the pit trap's cover, clawed wildly at his surroundings as they swirled down around him, a surreal moment as the entire jungle slid into the hole with him—
then the pain smashed into and through him, incredible pain. His eyes were useless, down here in the pit, but he realized what he was feeling. He was feeling sharpened stakes, four inches across, at the bottom of the fifteen foot deep pit. One was through his calf, one through each leg, one rammed up from the small of his back into his torso. Blood; he was losing too much blood—
For a moment Creed lay panting, desperately trying to get air as he lay impaled on the spikes. Could have escaped. Could have sensed the trap, but he was falling. It was too late. Everything was too late.
Kravinoff's head was silhouetted against the grayscale dimness of the jungle above. Why not. Creed tried to bark a laugh, but only a wheezing hiss escaped. Pain. Too much pain.
Kravinoff drew a machete from its sheath at his side. He slid down into the pit on the wrecked cover that had concealed it from Creed.
"Crazy," Creed managed, his breath whistling out. "Bring it."
The next few seconds in the dark were intense, brutal, and inhuman.
Then it was done.
Kravinoff managed to crawl out of the pit, freely bleeding. He dragged himself to his feet, bent down, picked up his prize.
Brandishing Creed's heavy severed head by the hair, Kravinoff howled victory into the gathering night.
On the beach, Logan lowered his head and slowly exhaled. He gathered his strength. Then he stood and walked away from the light, into the jungle.
xXx
Kravinoff pushed himself up the tree to his perch. He looked out over the beach. His brow creased. The fire was still burning brightly, but Logan was nowhere to be seen.His instincts flared, a moment too late.
A hard hand snatched his ankle and tugged sharply. Reaching out with instinctive swiftness, Kravinoff snatched his tree stand frame, and did not fall. A quick scrabble on bark, and he felt a powerful blow pound into the small of his back. Still he managed to hold on.
Then he heard the slitting sound of unsheathing claws.
He let go.
Tucking and trying to control his fall, he was lashed and whipped by branches before he crashed to the ground twenty feet below. Another thud, and he looked up to see Logan, crouched, claws out, his adamantium weapons gleaming in the moonlight.
Kravinoff rolled away and came up drawing his machete. He settled into stance.
"Yer not gonna punch my ticket," Logan growled in a soft voice.
Kravinoff smiled.
"Suit yerself," Logan shrugged. He walked towards Kravinoff.
The hunter stepped forward, lashing down with the machete. Logan slashed in a backhand that caught the big man's blade in his claws, shattering it, as he drove his other fist towards Kravinoff's chest. Kravinoff hopped back, catching his ankles on a fallen log; he toppled over backwards and Logan was on top of him.
Kravinoff managed to jerk to the side, feeling Logan's fist brush him as Logan's claws drove deep into the loam where his flesh had been a moment before. Logan kicked his foot, his punctured foot, and Kravinoff bit back a scream. With a mighty shove he pushed Logan away, airborne back into the small clearing. Logan landed and launched as Kravinoff rolled to his feet and ducked behind a tree.
Logan's claws punched into Kravinoff's ribs as he slammed them through the narrow tree trunk and into the hunter. His other claws whipped around the tree and caught Kravinoff on the back of his hand, effortlessly slicing through mere flesh and clinking against the machete hilt Kravinoff still gripped. Logan slid both claws free and sidestepped towards Kravinoff.
Their eyes met.
For the first time, Kravinoff saw death in Logan's eyes.
For the first time, Kravinoff felt a touch of fear.
The big hunter darted to the side, and Logan followed. Kravinoff slid down a slope onto a trail, and Logan followed. Kravinoff scooped up a rock, and tossed it at the trail.
In an explosion of the jungle floor, a noose whipped around where an ankle would be and the counterbalance dropped somewhere in the jungle; Kravinoff leaped, catching the retreating noose, and was hauled up into the canopy. Logan watched him go.
"No matter," Logan said slowly.
He headed toward the island interior.
xXx
Kravinoff's hand shook as he wound bandages around his punctured hand. He murmured an African prayer to himself, his eyes half closed, slowly swaying. Pain. The pain was enormous. But he would last it.
He packed his fist tight. Fortunately, the cut had not severed tendons. He bandaged his fingers together into a fist to keep it that way. He looked down at his boot, also tightly wrapped in bandages. His ribs were patched, but combat would open those wounds again. He did not have time to stitch himself up.
He glanced down into the valley below, saw Logan move through a clearing, headed towards the mountain at the center of the island. Indeed, that's where the fax machine was. There could be no better bait. Kravinoff was assured another confrontation.
His hands itched for a rifle for just a moment, then he shook his head.
"No," he said aloud.
He looked over his collection and then, almost lovingly, he picked up a hatchet.
He bent his fear, turned it until it was behind him.
It propelled him out of his shelter, towards the island mountain's crater.
"Live or die," he murmured to himself, "this, this is a hunt."
xXx
Logan walked up the trail that cut along the face of the mountain at an angle so it would not be too steep. He was sure this would lead deeper in, and he got the feeling Kravinoff didn't expect the hunt to get up here.
He sniffed. Blood; Kravinoff was upwind. Logan kept walking, eyes narrowed.
Kravinoff stood on the path. "You shall not pass," he said.
"I thought hunting was about striking from ambush with all the odds in your favor," Logan said. "What are you doin out in the open?"
"Satisfing my honor," Kravinoff said. "I fear you. To cut you down in ambush would be wrong. For the rest of my life I would wonder if I could have mastered you."
"Instead yer gonna get cut ta pieces in combat," Logan said, skeptical.
Kravinoff nodded. "If need be. That is a gentler fate. But I do not think I will lose."
"Suit yerself," Logan shrugged. He dropped into combat stance.
By now both men's pants were shredded, torn from the hips down and hanging from the knees in tatters. Their boots were cut and scratched, their torsos bloodied by the long thorns and sharp leaves in the undergrowth. They faced off, and all the pain went away.
Kravinoff skipped sideways, favoring his injured foot. Logan hopped to keep up with him. The two men faced off. Kravinoff twirled his hatchet once, in the hand that was not bandaged into a fist. Then he stepped in close enough for Logan to attack.
Logan darted in and slashed with his claws, but Kravinoff had expected him to aim for the hatchet; as he spun it out of the way of Logan's claws, he slid around and buried it in Logan's ribs from behind. He tore it free as Logan staggered forward under the force of the hit; for a second Logan was grateful Kravinoff only had one hand in this fight. The small man spun with a backhand slash at Kravinoff's torso, and Kravinoff jumped back so the lethal claws hissed past.
Logan was startled by the powerful clang of the hand axe slapping into his head, right between the eyes up on his forehead. His head rocked back on his shoulders and he stumbled; the axe head thudded into his neck.
In a reflexive motion he whipped his claws around in front of him. Just in time, Kravinoff released the axe haft and yanked his arm back, the claws hissed through the hatchet handle without slowing down. Logan yanked the axe out with his other hand and threw it away.
Kravinoff reached behind himself and pulled out another heavy survival knife. Logan grinned.
Kravinoff hopped in again, and Logan slashed at him. But Kravinoff evaded the claws, plunging the knife into the back of Logan's hand and guiding his claws to clang into the claws of his other hand.
In the moment it took Logan to untangle himself, Kravinoff slammed a powerful blow home with the bandaged fist that rocked Logan's head back on his neck again. Then Kravinoff stepped forward and wrapped his massive arm around Logan's head, yanking to the side.
A lesser man's neck would not have merely snapped, it would have nearly been torn in two. Logan felt his spine give, strain as he was whipped to the side. For a cold moment his spine barely held under the strain.
Kravinoff plunged the knife in to the hilt in Logan's gut; Logan could not scream. His elbow snapped up and crashed into Kravinoff's face, but the big man would not let go. The knife tore out, taking some of Logan with it.
Everything went red. Logan fought the rage that boiled up within him, the berserk fury that would, no question, kill Kravinoff. Logan wrenched to the side, and Kravinoff was hurled off him and sent tumbling across the road. The big hunter was on his feet in a moment, and Logan was whipping through the air at him. Kravinoff dropped to the side, grabbing Logan's ankle and pulling with all his strength.
The smaller man's leap became a swing, and he was suddenly spinning through the air. He crashed into a tree and dropped, blood flying out of his deep wounds. But he was on his feet and moving.
The world seemed to drop into slow motion for Logan. Kravinoff was before him, his face determined. He jabbed with the knife, and Logan swept his claws across it, knocking it out of the big hunter's grip. Then he was up, and his feet lashed out and caught the big hunter in the chest. The two of them crashed to the ground, Logan on Kravinoff's chest knocking all the wind from him and breaking some ribs, and the claws drove down—
Kravinoff lay on the ground, eyes open, stunned, a claw slicing deep in either side of his neck. He tried to look up; he realized that the center claw, the one that would have gone through his windpipe and spine, was retracted. The other two pinned the meat of his neck to the ground.
"You can get out of this with scars," Logan rasped. "I beat you. Admit it and you live." Logan put his other fist on Kravinoff's shoulder joint. "Don't make me kill you."
"The hunt is over," Kravinoff whispered, squeezing his eyes shut from the pain. "You are the victor."
"Damn straight," Logan said, and he retracted his claws with a slithering hiss of steel on steel. He unsteadily stood and stepped off of Kravinoff's chest. "Ow."
Kravinoff lay struggling to breathe.
Logan slumped to the ground, trying to stem the flow of blood. "How many hours till dawn?" he asked, his voice ragged with pain.
"Why," Kravinoff managed. "Why didn't you kill me?"
Logan looked at him for a long moment. "You aren't the trophy, Kravinoff," he said, his voice quiet. "The cure for Tymaz Nine, that's the trophy. You are just an obstacle." He lowered his head. "Besides, if somethin goes sour getting the contact info, I'll need you for my plan b or this whole jaunt's fer nuthin."
Kravinoff's chuckle turned into a cough and lapsed into silence.
Logan stirred. "It's not too late fer me to kill you."
Kravinoff said nothing.
"There's a cost fer your life, hunter," Logan said.
"What is that?" Kravinoff said softly.
"Someday I'm gonna need a hunter to hunt somethin down for me," Logan said. "When I call for you, I want you to do a hunt just for me."
"I can do that," Kravinoff said. "You have my word that I will.
There were long minutes of silence as the two rested. Logan was feeling much better except for a dull ache in his neck and shoulder. Kravinoff tried not to bleed too much.
"Creed's dead, aint he," Logan said, looking out over the jungle.
"Yes," Kravinoff said. "I took his head."
Logan shook his head once sharply. "You did me an the world a big favor there," he said. "He was a good sparrin partner," Logan added. Then he sighed. "An that's all he was good for."
"That's why I brought him," Kravinoff said, shifting so he could see Logan from where he rested on the ground. "He was not complete without you. To hunt him alone was to hunt an animal. To hunt you without him was to hunt a man. You were, together, one creature," Kravinoff said.
"What?" Logan said.
Kravinoff managed a smile. "All Creed wanted was revenge, and no man is smaller than vengeance. He was bigger than his goal. You have always wanted something bigger than yourself. That is why you were bigger than he was, even though he had a larger body. You were willing to bet your life on a cure for someone else. He came here just for a chance to kill. I knew he could not defeat you."
"I think you've lost a little too much blood," Logan grunted.
Kravinoff shook his head. "No. Not yet. You see, as a hunter I judge a man by the shadow he casts. You, Logan, cast a deep shadow." Kravinoff gathered his breath. "Who will mourn Creed?" he asked. "If I had killed you, who would mourn you?"
"Where's yer nearest stash?" Logan asked abruptly. "I better get you patched up or you'll die of blood loss."
"Up that tree at the bend," Kravinoff said.
A few minutes later Logan was bandaging Kravinoff's wounds. "That should hold ya," Logan said as he treated and bound the gashes through both sides of Kravinoff's neck. "Can ya breathe okay?"
"Fine," Kravinoff wheezed. Logan squatted and looked him over. Damn near dead, this man was.
"You okay to head up to the fax?" Logan asked the hunter. Kravinoff wheezed, and blinked twice.
"Yes," the big Russian said.
Logan nodded. "I'll catch up."
