Read Online Monster Gauntlet by Paul Emil - Free Book Online

either side of us. Until this moment, the highlands had always represented freedom in my mind. The openness and vastness had an eerie beauty. Now, the mountains, with their tops disappearing into the clouds, seemed like passable giants meant to wall us in.
    I found myself dreaming about the luxuries of home: a hot shower, a warm bed, food, a sense of security – things I had none of here.
    I glanced into the woods again. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t see anything. I wasn’t sure if “the thing” was still there, assuming it had ever been there. I shuddered. I was stressed out, sure, but it was way too early to be losing my mind.
    I ran my hand over the smooth metal canister and plastic pistol grip of the weapon at my hip. The cold solidity of it felt reassuring, but at the same time it seemed woefully inadequate. At the time the “gas gun” seemed like a good idea. Now I wanted a real one.
    Maybe Bear was right. We need firepower. The thought haunted me like a restless spirit: I should have picked the machine gun.
    We walked in silence. Eventually, the open plain seemed to narrow and the forest started closing in on either side. It was right about the time when this started bothering me that Mason shouted, “Monster!”
    We all swung around. About 200 meters away, behind us, a large black shape slinked across the ground we had passed over minutes before. It was some type of animal. Its movements were fluid and silent.
    Like a ninja, I thought.
    But unlike a ninja, the beast made no effort to hide or be stealthy as it approached. It walked fearlessly out in the open. We could soon see what it was.
    “It’s a cat,” I said. “A big cat.”
    “What the fuck?” said Bear. “What the hell does a jungle cat have to do with Scotland?”
    Marine said, “Does it matter?”
    “Actually,” I said, “There are rumors of big cats roaming Britain. This fits.”
    Trish shouldered her crossbow and said, “Who gives a fuck? What do we do?”
    Bear stood with his legs apart and held his pistol in two hands, like a shooter at a target range. His posture suggested he had experience with shooting. That gave me a small measure of reassurance. Very small.
    Mason, machete in hand, said, “Are you crazy? We should run.”
    Marine said, “We need some cover.”
    “Fuck you!” said Bear. “You wouldn’t need to run if you assholes had brought guns. The closer it comes, the easier it is to hit.”
    The cat loomed closer. I could see the yellow of its piercing, unblinking eyes. The beast stared at us like a high-tech death device locking onto a target. Bear shifted his weight from foot to foot, suddenly uncomfortable.
    “That’s a big cat,” Marine breathed.
    He was right. In the distance, it looked like a jaguar, which was intimidating enough, but as it came closer, it looked huge, like a mountain lion.
    “I’m outta here,” Mason said, and bolted for the woods.
    Idiot, I thought. Remarkably, the running didn’t trigger the animal’s instinct to chase and attack. Apparently, Mason was going to get lucky. I wanted to run, but not into the woods. But there was nowhere else to go.
    I remembered some nature show where they showed lions stalking their prey. One strategy was to work in pairs. One lion would walk openly, presenting itself to the gazelles or zebras or whatever. It would drive them towards an area where another lion was hiding, waiting to attack.
    That old TV show flashed through my mind in a second. So did a vision of a zebra getting torn to pieces.
    Marine said, “We need cover. I’m heading for the trees.”
    He looked over at me as if inviting or even imploring me to join him. Then he turned and moved towards the forest.
    I looked at Bear and Trish standing there with their long-range weapons. Then I turned and watched Marine disappear into the darkness between the trees. I followed him.
    I slowly moved away, never turning my back on the beast until I crossed the tree line. Only a few meters into the