Read Online The Lion Killer (The Dark Continent Chronicles) by James S. Gardner - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: James S. Gardner
Tags: Suspense & Thrillers
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Rigby place an armed guard outside of his tent. The next morning Max complained. “The night guard's useless. I heard him snoring.”
To calm Turner down, Dutchy and Rigby took over the guard-duty detail. Two nights later, Turner caught Rigby napping. The third time Turner woke Rigby up, the reception he received shocked him. “Max, if you wake me up one more time, I'll put a bullet right between your bloodshot eyes. Do we understand each other?”
In the morning, he handed Turner his first mug of coffee. “Sorry about last night. Sleeping with these lions is enough to drive any man insane.”
“All's forgiven, as long as I get my lion.”
“Lion hunting is never easy. The dumb ones have already been shot.”
“I hope I get a chance to redeem myself,” Max said.
At dusk, Max shot a zebra stallion. It was a head shot at over two hundred meters. The men used parts of the zebra carcass to bait three blinds. That night, they had no takers except for two large lionesses and a male so young he still had the camouflage spots on his flanks. On the fourth night, Rigby tried a tape recording of a male roaring, but it silenced the younger males. Even the recording of hyenas on a kill would not bring them into shooting range. On the fifth day the lion hunting improved, but it was the worst day of Rigby Croxford's life.
***
Dutchy and Sam returned from their morning scouting expedition. They had seen white-backed vultures circling above a baobab tree. It was enough to get Rigby and Turner scrambling into the back of the truck.
“Max, I know you're getting tired of hearing it, but this could be the day. Just remember what we've gone over. A male lion broadside is three meters long. You need to shoot him here.” Rigby indicated a place under his armpit. “That way, you take out a lung and maybe his heart. If he charges your target size is reduced to the size of a man's fist. A lion's skull is shaped like an arrowhead. Let him get close before you pull the trigger or you may get a ricochet. When I say close, I mean so close you can smell his breath. We'll wait for you to fire the first shot, but after that one, we'll all be firing. I know I've said this before, but you can't run. If any of us bolt, it'll turn a mock charge into the real thing. A good shot is what we need from you. Any questions?”
“Don't worry about me. I won't run, and I won't miss.” Turner's boasting caused Rigby and Dutchy to glance at each other.
It took them an hour to drive to the circling vultures. They got out of the truck and started to move up. Sam made sure they were downwind. The baobab was at the edge of a dried-up pan. The tree was covered in vultures and marabou storks. Underneath its twisted branches there was a tancolored form. Sam led them into the heavy “adrenalin” grass. The area around the pan was thicketed in mopani scrub and hook-thorn underbrush.
During the night, two black-maned lions had fought over a woman's carcass. One lion rested under the baobab guarding what was left of her. His belly was swollen with human flesh and organs. He flicked his tail to ward off blowflies and he lapped blood off of his paws. His brother waited nearby for his turn to feed. He licked at a deep gash inflicted by his brother. Instantly, both lions stood up to investigate a noise.
Dutchy increased the volume on his tape recorder. The sound of a child screaming carried on the wind. They saw the lion under the tree, but no one saw the second lion circling in behind them. Dutchy had left Jocko in the truck. When the dog saw the second lion crawling towards his master, he went wild. Dutchy turned and motioned to silence him. The lion was now only fifty meters behind him. Jocko tried to squeeze through the cracked window.
“Take him, Max,” Rigby whispered. “No wait! Wait!” He hooked Turner's elbow and pulled him forward. “Watch his tail. As long as he's flicking it, we're safe. If he straightens his tail for balance, he's coming.”
To calm Turner down, Dutchy and Rigby took over the guard-duty detail. Two nights later, Turner caught Rigby napping. The third time Turner woke Rigby up, the reception he received shocked him. “Max, if you wake me up one more time, I'll put a bullet right between your bloodshot eyes. Do we understand each other?”
In the morning, he handed Turner his first mug of coffee. “Sorry about last night. Sleeping with these lions is enough to drive any man insane.”
“All's forgiven, as long as I get my lion.”
“Lion hunting is never easy. The dumb ones have already been shot.”
“I hope I get a chance to redeem myself,” Max said.
At dusk, Max shot a zebra stallion. It was a head shot at over two hundred meters. The men used parts of the zebra carcass to bait three blinds. That night, they had no takers except for two large lionesses and a male so young he still had the camouflage spots on his flanks. On the fourth night, Rigby tried a tape recording of a male roaring, but it silenced the younger males. Even the recording of hyenas on a kill would not bring them into shooting range. On the fifth day the lion hunting improved, but it was the worst day of Rigby Croxford's life.
***
Dutchy and Sam returned from their morning scouting expedition. They had seen white-backed vultures circling above a baobab tree. It was enough to get Rigby and Turner scrambling into the back of the truck.
“Max, I know you're getting tired of hearing it, but this could be the day. Just remember what we've gone over. A male lion broadside is three meters long. You need to shoot him here.” Rigby indicated a place under his armpit. “That way, you take out a lung and maybe his heart. If he charges your target size is reduced to the size of a man's fist. A lion's skull is shaped like an arrowhead. Let him get close before you pull the trigger or you may get a ricochet. When I say close, I mean so close you can smell his breath. We'll wait for you to fire the first shot, but after that one, we'll all be firing. I know I've said this before, but you can't run. If any of us bolt, it'll turn a mock charge into the real thing. A good shot is what we need from you. Any questions?”
“Don't worry about me. I won't run, and I won't miss.” Turner's boasting caused Rigby and Dutchy to glance at each other.
It took them an hour to drive to the circling vultures. They got out of the truck and started to move up. Sam made sure they were downwind. The baobab was at the edge of a dried-up pan. The tree was covered in vultures and marabou storks. Underneath its twisted branches there was a tancolored form. Sam led them into the heavy “adrenalin” grass. The area around the pan was thicketed in mopani scrub and hook-thorn underbrush.
During the night, two black-maned lions had fought over a woman's carcass. One lion rested under the baobab guarding what was left of her. His belly was swollen with human flesh and organs. He flicked his tail to ward off blowflies and he lapped blood off of his paws. His brother waited nearby for his turn to feed. He licked at a deep gash inflicted by his brother. Instantly, both lions stood up to investigate a noise.
Dutchy increased the volume on his tape recorder. The sound of a child screaming carried on the wind. They saw the lion under the tree, but no one saw the second lion circling in behind them. Dutchy had left Jocko in the truck. When the dog saw the second lion crawling towards his master, he went wild. Dutchy turned and motioned to silence him. The lion was now only fifty meters behind him. Jocko tried to squeeze through the cracked window.
“Take him, Max,” Rigby whispered. “No wait! Wait!” He hooked Turner's elbow and pulled him forward. “Watch his tail. As long as he's flicking it, we're safe. If he straightens his tail for balance, he's coming.”
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