Dangerous Game

Us Shepherds gathered just before dawn. Five of us total, all anonymous. Our handler, who was antsy to get back into the SUV and leave us there, kept turning his hand over and over, hurrying us. He had us call out numbers in a row, and that was our designation. Number 3 for me. From the back of the black truck we were given guns and walkie-talkies.

Although our packs were searched before we were allowed into the vehicle, he did another pass. 2, a stammering rookie, had thought he was slick, and had a cassette player wrapped up in a towel. The handler threw it onto the ground and stomped it into the loamy soil. 2 tried to object, but he was warned he could be pulled from the program any time. He sulked for the rest of the debrief. Assuming he was like the rest of us, he needed the money more than he needed his tunes. 

This wasn’t my first rodeo. Some of the others were familiar faces. 1 was clearly an aging Marine, and always seemed to get number 1. 2 may have been a high school senior. 4 was a serious woman who was having a hard time not dressing 2 down herself. 5 was another newcomer, quiet and sad-looking. 5 hadn’t spoken a word so far, just watched us all with pale blue eyes.

The handler went over the basics we had just heard at main camp maybe an hour before. We were supposed to climb up into the blinds before the customers and their prey got there. We kept in minimal contact, hoping to be unseen and unheard. The clients, our “flock”, were paying top dollar to hunt such exotic game. They also paid quite a bit for an “authentic” experience.

It was hard not to roll my eyes now that I’d heard this same spiel about a dozen times. It was all some machismo garbage about being “real men”. Going back to caveman days. I highly doubted any of them had been within a square mile of a cave, let alone in its dank depths. If any of them had even camped out in a tent, I’d eat my boots. Crazy the lengths wealthy men will go to to avoid hugging their kids.

Shepherds were only there as insurance, the handler told us all gravely. Discretion was key. We kept the flock safe in the field and we never breathed a word about any of it. We all knew the importance of keeping our mouths shut, as all of it was incredibly illegal. The clients could probably buy their way out of prison, but we’d be there for the rest of our lives. But this also meant they didn’t ask a lot of questions. This wasn’t the kind of job you gave references for, and that worked out for me just fine. 

The handler left in a spray of kicked up dirt and soon the taillights were swallowed up by the tree trunks.

As we climbed our trees, the corresponding number gouged into the bark, I thought of my previous hunts. I had only discharged my weapon once. These 10 legged spiders from a planet I couldn’t pronounce. Black with bright blue stripes running down their sides. One of the clients had gotten cocky and got caught in a trap of almost invisible silk. A circle of earth flipped open to reveal the spider, which shot out and had him between two of its legs before anyone could say anything on the radio. I didn’t think, just let my body move, throwing the gun’s stock to my shoulder and letting out a single shot. The spider wheeled and saw through the camouflage of my blind. Its twelve snowglobe eyes swiveled to look directly at me. By then the other Shepherds had stopped flipping through their nudie mags and filled it full of holes. The hunter lost his left arm, the flesh hissing as the spider’s venom shredded through it. 

Some of the alien critters weren’t that impressive. Basically just cows with too many heads or fearsome looking lizards that were scared and confused. The electrified perimeter kept them in. Everything was manufactured to make the clients feel like they tracked their targets down to this exact spot, where the dumb animals were usually easy game, still trying to get their bearings. Shooting alien fish in a forest shaped barrel.

Today’s quarry was from a planet with large, dense jungles. This forest on Earth wouldn’t be an exact analog, but like the spiders, whatever these things were, they would have an upper hand here. Main camp didn’t have any photos to show us (the less evidence, the better), but we learned they were omnivores. Fairly intelligent, from what the poachers had seen. Three in their company were killed and one narrowly escaped while getting the specimens from their home planet. So the hunt was even more valuable. I prayed even a cent of it would trickle down into my pockets. 

I climbed into the blind, a glorified treehouse, and found an egg crate to sit on and the pervasive smell of sweaty socks. The shutters’ slats creaked as I slid the bar down to open them. A truck arrived into the clearing between the trees, a wooden crate in its bed. The passenger hopped out and pushed the crate off the end. She slapped the roof of the truck and it sped off. The sun, rising rapidly now that dawn was on us, threw strange shadows over the crate, which lay completely still. I pressed my face closer, exhaled and didn’t take another breath so my eyes were steady. I fought the cloying urge to take a breath, waiting for something to happen. 

A hiss of static from my walkie talkie caused me to jolt and take a breath. 2’s voice came out of the radio, “Are we supposed to do something?” Then silence. Then again, “Over.” His voice was strained with tension.

“Shut up, over,” 1’s grizzled monotone came through at nearly a yell, the volume was up so high. I turned to turn it down and when I looked again, the lid of the crate was gone. Scanning the ground around it, pressing my face against the shutters to try and get a view of the other trees, I didn’t see a single thing. I desperately wanted to ask if anyone had seen anything, but didn’t want to lump myself together with 2’s idiocy.

The sun crept higher as we waited. I preoccupied myself watching a beetle scurry in and out of the floorboards. “Clients moving into position, over,” 1 said. Some grandpas came into the clearing, stomping through the underbrush like elephants. They may have been heroes a million years ago during The War, but they had lost any of their training. Then again, coming from money, they may have been draft dodgers. Either way, they seemed to be having trouble even walking up a small incline. This was going to be a long one, I thought, sitting down on the crate, laying my rifle across my lap. 

I could hear what passed in their world as banter. They called each other slurs. Talked about their secretaries. Their wives. I got the distinct impression they would have been better off on one of their yachts, pretending to fish and throwing beer cans into the sea. One of them suddenly shushed the others and I strained to hear. 

A single shot sounded like cannonfire in the forest’s quiet. “Damn, missed it,” one of them said. Another accused him of seeing things. “I’m telling you, it was going between the branches of that tree and that one.” I crept to the window. He was pointing to trees 4 and 5. A blur moved in the shadows and I got my rifle ready.

“What’s that there?” another said, getting a pair of glasses out of his shirt pocket and unfolding them, clumsily cradling his gun against his chest. His arthritic finger wiggled in the general direction of 2’s blind. 

“Guys…” 2 said. “I-” he began and the sound of splintering wood filled the air as our walkie talkies sang in chorus. 2 screamed and fired. A flash illuminated the shadows inside the blind. A moment later, he appeared on the far side of the tree, trying to climb down. 

“2! What’s going on?” 4 came over the radio, but 2 was too busy panicking. The ancient hunters were calling out in confusion. From the bottom of the blind, a form crawled out, climbing down the ladder as well. The dappled light of the canopy’s shadow danced along its spots, fur running down its slender arms. It made my eyes shake, trying to make sense of it. 2 looked up at it and screamed. I slammed my palm against the shutter, causing it to open with a bang. 

“3! Get your-” 1 was saying, but I was already sliding the bolt of my rifle back. I peered down the scope just in time to see the creature swat at 2. His head jerked to the side and his body fell limp. My eyes reflexively screwed shut and my face turned away as his body hit the forest floor with a thud. 

The geezers below started to shoot wildly up at the thing. Cursing myself, I looked through the scope again. It lifted its head to look at me. Four eyes, each with razor thin pupils, looked up at me. Rows of white fangs flashed, giving me a smile. My stomach crashed down and a tremor ran down my spine.

“3! The clients!” 4 shouted from her open window. I spun and aimed downward. The men were blundering with their guns as another of the creatures stalked out of a shadow. I aimed squarely at the center of its head and pulled the trigger. It leapt just as my gun went off, slamming back into my shoulder. The closest man’s head disappeared in a red mist as the beast swiped through the bone like butter. The rest of them screamed and scattered. 

Rifle fire filled the air as the other Shepherds took what shots they could. The monster on the ground moved below my tree, out of sight, picking off the old men. The one that had been on 2’s tree jumped up and sailed over to 4’s tree, a skein of spotted skin stretching between its limbs. I heard 1 trying to radio the main camp. 4 took potshots at the creature crawling up her tree, but it wasn’t deterred. Its eyes were wide, nearly encompassing its entire face. Every time 4 fired, it seemed to move just enough to avoid the bullet. 4 was yelling, cussing at it.

I pulled the bolt handle of my rifle back. My teeth set on edge as the bolt locked and refused to budge. 4 looked to me, terror in her eyes. I yelled and waved my arms, trying to distract it. 1 tried to pick it off before it made it up to the treehouse, but the thing simply slunk to the far side of the tree where he couldn’t see it. 4 yanked a Bowie knife from her kit as the creature burst up through the trap door. In an instant, it had closed its mouth around where her neck met her shoulder. She drove the knife into its back, but it didn’t seem to mind. It looked at me as 4’s blood pooled up around its teeth. 4 continued to stab. And stab. And stab. But eventually her arm fell to her side and the knife clattered to the floor. In the smallest mercy, the treehouse’s walls blocked the view of the monster burying its face in its kill. The slurping and crunching were enough.

I stepped away from the window, my mouth the only thing keeping my vomit from spewing out. The one on the ground suddenly appeared in 1’s blind. My throat clenched shut as I tried to warn him. He turned about and got off one good shot, spraying the wall with bright green blood that glowed in the light. I muttered little apologies to them all as I pulled the shutters closed and fastened them. I slid the crate over to the trap door and sat on it, praying my weight would be enough to keep them at bay. Would main camp send help? Did they even know something had gone wrong? My fingers fumbled with the bolt, sweat making it a futile effort. 

After a few moments, I realized the forest had gone quiet again. Maybe they had been busy with 5? Oh God, I thought. 5. He may have been their first victim before we even realized it. I swallowed hard, trying to still my heartbeat as it crashed against my ribs. Maybe they had their fill. Maybe they would wander off, be someone else’s problem.

A tapping cut through my racing thoughts. A persistent pecking at the wood of the shutters. I stared at the floor, tears flooding my eyes as my body shook uncontrollably. The tapping continued until I couldn’t bear it any longer. Clamping my hand over my nose and mouth, I looked up. 

There between the bars of the shutter were two eyes, pale and blue like the sky above the trees. In the space below was a smile, gleaming white. I stood up and slammed my back against the wall. Two sets of the creature eyes appeared on either side of 5 and slowly changed, melding into pairs of human eyes. The spotted fur gave way to smooth skin. One of them, its arms still slim and sickled, yanked the shutter from the window. 1 and 4 stood on either side of 5 now, where the creatures had been. 1 had a gaping green hole in his chest that drew closed and disappeared without a mark. 4’s skin squelched and her bones clicked as they settled.

“This was hardly any fun at all,” 5 said to 4. Rips and tears appeared in their mimicked clothes. “Maybe main camp will have a surprise or two when they come looking.” 

“We’re just getting started,” 1 said. “Surely someone on this planet will put up a good fight.” 

“If these are their hunters, I wouldn’t bet on it,” 4 said. “Are we sure they’re properly intelligent? Even their language is ugly.” She studied my face, trying to replicate my expression.

“I guess we’ll find out,” 5 said. The radio came alive with chatter from main camp. 4 stooped to pick up the radio. She stared at me as she worked her breath shorter and shorter. 

“Oh God,” she said. “They’re dead! Send help! Please!” 

“What about this one?” 1 asked, gesturing towards me. 

“Leave it,” 5 said. “It can take us back to its nest so we can see its natural habitat.”