The Ultimate Prey
Prologue
by
DreamWeaver and Hunter
DISCLAIMER: Everything belongs to Marvel except Kiefer, Jan, and the Disco.
FEEDBACK: Yes please. . . . katduza@yahoo.com or mainsmel@yahoo.com
HUNTER'S NOTES: Many thanks to Dream Weaver for all her amazing hard work to get this done before I left for Canada. It was a pleasure to work with you.
DREAMWEAVER'S NOTES: Kudos to KAT for setting out the whole idea! An amazing mindmeld as we sliced, diced, and spliced the story together over many a chat. Great fun!
AUTHORS' NOTES: The dialect of the two main baddies is of Southern African origin: South Africa (Kiefer) and next door Namibia (Jan). (boet--Afrikaans for 'brother', in slang-comrade or close friend)
Canada's West Coast
He pushed between the dripping clumps of waist-high fern and knelt beside the prey to check the pulse. Not really necessary. It had been a clean kill, but this was something he had always done. The monotonous drizzle that grayed the day suddenly turned into hard rain, spattering the widening pool of blood, washing it away in runnels, mixing it with the earth until the brilliant red of life was diluted to a muddy brown.
'Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust. . . '
Letting the dead man's hand slide slowly out of his, Kiefer rose as he sensed his friend's silent approach from behind. The two exchanged glances, the hunter, Kiefer, a tall, lean shaft of golden sun-- hair, skin-- even his light hazel, gold-flecked eyes at times showing yellow as a tiger's. The tracker, Jan -- a smaller, slimmer, faded Kiefer, a Kiefer muted by moonlight with pallid skin that refused to tan, intense pale blue eyes, and a meticulous half-inch brush of white-blond hair. As one the men dispassionately regarded the body a moment before silently turning away and walking back to the camp.
"That was too easy, Jan," Kiefer said evenly.
Jan did not reply, instead thumbed the cell, giving the co-ordinates of the prey, instructions for it to be collected and prepared for viewing.
Slipping noiselessly through the dense foliage, Kiefer waited until the phone was once more in Jan's pocket, then murmured, "It's over, hey? The hunt is over."
He tasted bitterness. This was his last hunting ground, his last bit of wilderness. But it wasn't the land that was the difficulty, it was the scarcity of prey. No, the quality of prey. Despondent, his ears automatically attuned to any sound, his nose to any scent, he unconsciously scanned the damp earth for prints, not aware that he was tracking as he analysed trees, bushes, even tiny, delicate flowers, searching for a tell-tale turn of leaf, a broken stem--evidence that something had passed by. He was intuitively, integrally woven into his surroundings--as are all predators.
"Nein, Kiefer," Jan said softly.
"What do you mean?" The bitterness put an edge in his voice and though he still carried the rifle in a relaxed grip he moved faster through the plant growth. "With your Germanic penchant for unvarnished truth you of all people must admit it. The hunt is over, Jan."
Jan regarded his comrade's rigid back. This man was like a brother, his 'boet'. He hated seeing his friend this way, listless, dejected, his spirit dimmed. But how to restore that fervent, joyful vitality? For what the other said was true--the hunt was over. Animals, then men--neither any longer offered challenge to a hunter of Kiefer's skills. There were no more worthy opponents. There was nothing left to hunt. And then Jan looked within himself and knew. "You still have not hunted the ultimate."
Kiefer stopped, spun around. "The ultimate? You're talking shit, Jan, and you know it!"
"Mutants," Jan said calmly, blinking the rain out his eyes even as the drops caught in his bristly hair glittered like a cap of crystal beads.
"Mutants!" Kiefer sneered.
"First in South Africa, then in Asia, Australia, the Americas, we stalked the wily, savage beast. Afterwards, when we had learned all of beast's many ways, our prey was cunning, capricious man. Now the gods of the chase have favored us with both beast and man as one--mutant. I promise you, boet, the hunt shall continue." Jan pushed aside the tall fronds of a tree fern and moved ahead.
Stunned, Kiefer watched the forest swallow up the tracker as a swirl of emotions flooded his body. When at last he followed, it was to be swept on in a surge of overwhelming joy.
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