Beverly stirred. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I said. "I'm just going to get some fresh air."
Her eyes opened. "I'm coming with you."
"I'll be fine."
"I get it. You're trying to protect me. Well, stop."
I blinked.
"We're in this together, Cy." She climbed out of the bag. "Wherever you go, I go."
The barking increased in volume. It sounded a little too deep throated to be coming from Yohl Ik’nal.
I put on my boots and grabbed my machete and pistol. Then Beverly and I slipped outside. Ferocious rain pounded my head and shoulders. The odors of damp grass and mud invaded my nostrils. Mist was everywhere, coating everything with a fine layer of bluish whiteness.
To the southeast, I saw Alonzo. He stood in the rain, just inside the area encompassed by our camp. He barked loudly at the jungle.
"What's the matter, boy?" Beverly asked.
He barked louder and took a hesitant step forward. Then he retreated a few steps and barked louder still.
I aimed my flashlight beam at him. He was hobbling a bit. Cuts and puncture marks adorning his trembling body. Trickles of blood oozed out of the wounds, staining his fur.
"What's wrong?" Graham stumbled out of his tent and limped toward us. "I heard barking."
"Something attacked Alonzo," I replied.
His jaw tightened.
Aiming my beam at the ground, I saw paw prints, roughly six inches in diameter. Five pointed toes surrounded each roundish heel pad.
It looked like the creature had been an efficient walker, with its rear feet stepping into the paw prints left by its front feet. As a result, the tracks were partially smooshed. Still, I was able to make out two long scratches on the right-side tracks. They ran across the heel pad, crisscrossing each other.
"Do you recognize them?" I asked.
"Not exactly," Graham replied. "But they belong to a cat. You can tell by the heel pad and the position of the toes. Based on their size, I'd say they came from a jaguar or a large cougar."
I exhaled. "Great."
"They're pretty recent." Beverly knelt down. "I can probably track them."
"Wait here." Graham hustled back to his tent. He emerged a minute later with a rifle in his hands. "Let's go."
Alonzo continued to bark as Graham and I followed Beverly into the jungle. As soon as we reached the tree line, the paw prints began to shift around a bit. They meandered to the west, to the southeast, to the southwest, and then northeast.
Beverly held up a hand.
I stopped.
She pointed a revolver to the east. "Aim your beam over there for a moment."
I shifted my light toward a large thicket.
Graham steadied his rifle and moved forward. "It was definitely here." He swallowed. "You guys should see this."
I exchanged glances with Beverly. Then we crept toward Graham. "What is …?"
My voice trailed off as I laid eyes on Yohl Ik’nal. She was hidden in the thicket, partially covered by a bed of leaves and twigs. A deep cut ran from her chest to her abdomen. Her ribs and sternum had been ripped open, exposing her chest cavity. Her organs, including her heart, liver, kidneys, and lungs, had been neatly plucked out of her carcass.
I exhaled loudly. "It ate her."
"Two or three days ago, from the looks of it." Graham frowned. "That's why it came to our camp tonight. It's hungry for more."
Chapter 42
"Are you sure?" Wrinkles appeared on Tum's forehead. "Because if you're right …"
"We're right." Graham jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "If you want, we can show you where we buried her carcass."
I wrinkled my nose. My clothes smelled like wet dog. It was nauseating and depressing at the same time.
Prior to calling the group meeting, we'd buried Yohl Ik’nal's remains far from where we'd found them. According to Graham, large cats often returned to snack on their prey over a period of several days. By denying it food, he hoped the cat would move on and find somewhere else in the canyon to hunt. However, a part of me wondered if it was a mistake. After all, we were ensuring it would need another meal soon.
"I believe you," Tum said. "But it doesn't make sense. Wild cats are skittish around people. Plus, they fear dogs. And not just big dogs. I've seen large jaguars run like the wind from small puppies."
"Me too," Graham replied. "I think it's because they confuse dogs with wolves. In any event, I'd say the cat probably prowled around our camp for a few days. Once it figured out there was nothing to fear, it decided to strike."
"But why? Why not stick to its normal prey?"
"Maybe pickings are slim right now. Or maybe it wanted to try something new. Regardless, Pacho and Rigoberta were too sick to even know about it. And Alonzo was too frightened to put up much of a fight. Without any repercussions, the cat probably figured it was safe to strike again."
I glanced at Alonzo. The doc had bandaged his wounds an hour ago. Now, he lay in his usual spot with his gaze locked on the southeastern jungle. For the most part, he rested his head on the ground. But every now and then, he'd lift it quickly as if seeing something in the shadows.
"I've heard enough," Crowley said. "We need to kill the cat."
Tum shot him a firm look. "We're not barbarians."
"It's only a matter of time before it comes back for Alonzo. And what if it catches one of us instead?"
An uncomfortable silence fell over the group.
"We can't just start killing every large cat that lives here," Tum retorted. "All animals, even predators, are precious. Plus, this is a small ecosystem. Any changes we make could have unexpected consequences."
Crowley exhaled. "I'm not talking about killing lots of cats. I'm talking about killing a single cat. A cat that, by the way, has taken an unhealthy interest in our camp."
"How do you hunt a cat anyway?" Emily asked.
"A large cat runs fast, but generally doesn't have good wind," Beverly said. "So, you send a couple of hunting dogs after it. Once it gets tired, it runs up a tree. From there, it's a simple matter of a reliable gun and good aim."
"That doesn't seem sporting."
"It's not supposed to be sporting," Graham said. "And it's not as easy as it sounds. You have to kill it on the first shot. Otherwise, the cat will go on a rampage and kill anything in sight."
Emily glanced at Alonzo. "Unfortunately, he's not much of a hunting dog. So, how are we going to handle the cat?"
"Unfortunately, the trail has gone cold. Our best bet is to stay vigilant and stick together during the daytime. At night, we should set up guard shifts."
"What if we see it?" Miranda asked.
"Then you shoot it," Crowley said.
"I've never killed anything before."
I took a quick glimpse outside. It was early morning, yet still dark out. Rain fell from the overhanging clouds. It was a lighter rain than when I'd gone to sleep, but it still annoyed me.
Beverly cocked her head. "I thought you grew up in the jungle."
"Well, sure. But I never participated in a hunt. Can't we, I don't know, tranquilize it or something?"
Crowley rolled his eyes. "Does anyone have a tranquilizer gun?"
Heads shook from side to side.
"Then we set up guard shifts and use regular guns." Graham lifted his rifle. "If you see a large cat, shoot it. If you're unarmed, make yourself as big as possible and yell like crazy."
"I don't know." Miranda shook her head slowly. "I just hate the thought of killing a wild animal."
"You can't show mercy. If it decides to eat you, it'll go after you over and over again. And it won't give up until you're dead."