Page 68 of The Last Sanctuary
It was barbaric. It was a massacre.
It needed to stop.
Raven placed the hood of the jacket over her head. With the black jacket and hood, with her dark-colored pants and dirt-smeared skin, she hoped she would fade into the shadows, just like the black wolf.
She knew this forest like the back of her hand, knew the ravines and meadows and streams of the Piedmont Wildlife Refuge, 35,000 acres of woods and hills and trails.
The Headhunters didn’t.
With a deep breath, she set off in the direction of the nearest gunshots. Moving quietly, darting from tree to tree to shield herself, she made her way westward, heading in the direction of the Ocmulgee River, which ran parallel to the wildlife sanctuary, about a mile west of the rear gates of the zoo.
Shuffling footsteps and a muffled curse alerted her to a nearby threat. Raven took cover behind the thick trunk of a poplar, and eased cautiously around the trunk. Brilliant yellow leaves cascaded over her head.
She glimpsed a human shape about thirty yards to the south. A man knelt with his back to her. He wore a puffy silver jacket and a red baseball cap. His rifle was up, and he peered through his scope at something up in the trees to his left.
The branches of an elm tree shook. A handful of orange-yellow leaves fluttered to the forest floor. A flash of inky fur caught her attention.
It was Newton, one of the bonobos. He perched on a lower branch about twenty feet off the ground. He seemed to be alone, intent on seizing leaves and tearing them to shreds.
The Headhunter was searching for a decent angle before he fired. Raven steadied herself against the poplar tree, widened her stance, fit the stock against her shoulder, and found the target in her sight. She aimed at the back of the man’s red baseball cap.
Time seemed to slow. She breathed in, breathed out. She’d killed a man already tonight. Some soul-deep, bone-weary part of herself dreaded doing it again. But she couldn’t allow this killing spree to continue.
She had the tranq gun, but this was a Headhunter. He was a bad guy.
Raven steeled herself. Her frantic heartbeat calmed as she lowered the barrel slightly. She inhaled, exhaled, and squeezed the trigger. A loud boom sounded. The round struck the Headhunter in his right shoulder.
The man shrieked in shock and pain. He dropped his gun. Twisting, he clutched at his shoulder, screaming. He fell to his knees.
Alarmed, Newton screeched. He scooted up the tree limb and leaped to another tree, scampered along a branch, and disappeared deeper into the woods.
Raven blew out a calming breath, aimed, and fired again. This time her round struck him lower, in the back. He dropped to the ground, screaming.
A male voice shouted to her left. Someone ran toward their position, footsteps thudding loud and frantic.
Lowering her rifle, Raven slunk back between the trees. As soon as she was out of earshot, she broke into a run to get a safe distance between herself and the fallen Headhunter.
Every few minutes, she paused to catch her breath, straining her ears to listen to the warnings of the forest surrounding her. A bluebird twittered overhead. The wind sighed through the softly swaying trees. Through the crisscrossed branches above her, patches of sky brightened in shades of grapefruit pink and burnt orange.
Raven slunk through the woods, a shadow among shadows. She found another Headhunter alone, his pants down, pissing against a tree trunk. He’d been loud, unused to the forest and its ways, and she’d had no problem discreetly following him until he’d lowered his gun—and his pants.
Sinking to her knees, she nestled the stock against her cheek, let out her breath, and fired. The round struck him in the left thigh. He moaned in pain, attempting to spin, but his feet tangled in his pants, and he collapsed.
She disappeared before he could find his weapon.
An hour later, she spotted Kodiak near the creek. The big black bear lumbered along the bank, snuffling huckleberry and elderberry bushes, searching for berries to quench his hunger.
She watched him for several minutes until she heard the inconspicuous noises of two Headhunters hot on Kodiak’s trail. Warily, she circled back on the Headhunters and stalked them from behind as they stalked Kodiak.
Before either of them got off a shot, she dropped to one knee behind a wide stump for cover, aimed and fired several rounds in quick succession. Two found their mark. The first Headhunter collapsed with a bullet in his lower back. The second took a hit to the right side of his head.
They went down screaming. Neither would be shooting a gun again anytime soon. Without prompt and intensive medical intervention, they’d probably die.
Startled by the sudden screaming, Kodiak took off in the opposite direction.
Raven backed away swiftly and did the same.
More screams mingled with the shouts and jeers echoing through the trees. Confusion and fear were taking hold. Maybe the Headhunters would give up now.
