Carnivore
Nairobi, Kenya, 1870 A.D.
Journal of Matthis Lefavre.
May 21st, First Entry.
Today marks the first day of the hunt. The hunt begins when the first signs of the hunted are discovered. A single footprint, a few broken branches, a fresh kill. Most of the time, very subtle signs that could be completely overlooked by the untrained eye. Although in this particular case, it was anything but subtle. Even now, as I write this, I still struggle to find the words to describe it in this journal. Only one word comes to mind when I think about what I came across that day, carnage. I tightened my grip on the.577 Black Powder Express rifle I had pressed firmly against my shoulder and slowly took in my surroundings.
Approximately 10 meters in front of me lie the mangled form of a large animal, from what I could make of it appeared to be of an adult lioness. Its carcass was crushed into the bloodstained soil, claws still fully extended as it most likely died fighting for its life. The wounds were consistent with many other cases of the hunted kind but with one unique and sadistic difference. Its entire head was ripped from its carcass.
As I moved past the lioness, I noticed that this unfortunate creature was not the only one to suffer such a fate. Strewn across the African soil lie the rest of the pride. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I heard a deep moan from the uprooted tree in the center of the killing field. I slowly made my way toward the source of the noise, rifle held firmly at eye level. When I reached its source, I was surprised to see none other than the king of the pride. The once-mighty creature lay there almost motionless, its great maned head resting on its paws, his wounds deep and his eyes full of pain and fear.
I stood above him and looked upon the once mighty ruler of the African planes, whose roar struck fear into the hearts of all who heard it, who in a matter of seconds was reduced to nothing more than a scared injured cub. My hunt was not for lions that day, otherwise, I would have spared him, yet to leave him alone in that state, to die a slow death while waiting for the pain to end would have been beyond unforgivable. I gave the creature a swift and honorable death with a single slug between the eyes. The loud bang reverberated across the dry plains as birds from nearby trees took to the sky. Then all was silent. All but a single roaring trumpet in the distance.
I felt the blood in my veins turn to ice as I realized that I had just heard the call of what the local villagers called Shetani Tembo. The distant sound had only come from several kilometers away. My human instincts wanted nothing more than to flee that killing field, away from the monster whom slain dozens of villagers and hunters leaving their crushed headless corpses to rot in the hot African sun. Nevertheless, I had a job to do, as I walked toward the source of the noise I took one last look at the male lion. The old king is dead, long live the new king. The hunt was on.
May 22nd, Second day of the hunt.
My name is Matthis Lefavre, born in Burges, Belgium to Alan and Eloise Lefavre. Although I grew up the son of a prominent banker, I never joined the family business. Instead, I enlisted into the military and spent most of my life stationed in the Garrison in the 4th regiment of the French Foreign Legion. It was there in the deserts of the Sahara where my passion for the hunt began.
Years after my service, I served as a guide to wealthy European clients traveling to various places on the vast continent of Africa. Some traders, some tourists, some missionaries and other big game hunters such as myself. It was just a few weeks ago that I received a telegraph about a rogue bull elephant that has been attacking villages in the eastern parts of Kenya just off of the Tanzanian colonies. Reports of entire hunting parties going missing and villages being attacked as women and children flee into the night as they watch the large dark figure trample their huts into the ground in its primal rampage.
Although elephant attacks are rare, they are not unheard of in these parts. On occasion, a wounded elephant will go on a rampage and attack humans and other animals alike and hunting parties will be sent out to euthanize the creature before more damage is done. One thing though did stand out in the case of this creature. It took the heads of its crushed victims and was found on multiple occasions feeding on cattle and humans alike. Given the fact that all elephants are herbivores, this news was most unusual and unsettling. Perhaps some rare disease befell the creature causing it to go mad such as victims of rabies do cause it to lash out and attack anything that moved. To feed on another living creature like an average carnivore had never been recorded in any historical documents anywhere in Europe.
The local tribes’ men called it “Shetani Tembo”. The men of the colonies referred to it as the “Moving Mountain”, or “Chasseur Noir”. The shamans and elders believed it to be possessed by dark spirits which gave it its hunger for flesh and thirst for blood. Even though its sightings were frequent, its appearance remained much to speculation as it only attacked at night and was never seen in broad daylight. Although several descriptions remained consistent. Large tusks that almost touched the ground, darker skin tone, and bulging eyes that seemed to look straight into your soul.
We made camp that night roughly 6 miles from where we found its last kill. As the others slept, I took first watch. The night was filled with sounds of insects and creatures of the night. The mosquitos were so bad that the locals among our hunting party smeared mud across their faces and the backs of their hands to prevent them from being bitten. The youngest of our party a young Frenchmen named Alexandre tossed and turned to swat at his face from time to time as he slept closest to the flames in an attempt to deter the ravenous winged fiends.
I sat rigid back facing the flames of our campfire. A trick I learned in the legion is to never look directly into the flames of a campfire so that your eyes will not adjust to its light but stay tuned to your dark surroundings. Soon afterward I was relieved from my watch from my long-time friend Absko, a local tracker and ingenious hunter who accompanied me on many hunts during my time in Africa. I slept on the ground that night with one hand resting on the butt of my rifle. Ready for anything that may come our way in the night.
May 23rd, Third day of the hunt
I awoke with a start after being awakened by a firm hand being placed on my shoulder. As I took in my surroundings, I saw Absko standing above me. I sat up as I began to recollect my dreams last night.
In my dream, I was once again standing in the killing field where we found the lions. The ground still soaked with blood and the sky glowing red as the sun was setting. I looked around me as to my horror the slaughtered lions were no longer lying prone but standing up surrounding me. Their heads still missing their limbs still contorted into unnatural angles as they all slowly shambled towards me.
I looked in horror as the male lion stood by its tree watching me not with the eyes of a beast but the eyes of a man. Its human-like expression was that of absolute terror. I slowly backed away as something caught my eye in the distance. I shimmering dark shape of a man shrouded in darkness stood far away watching me, its body stood tall and thin, unlike any man I had seen before.
My focus was then directed to the male lion as it suddenly appeared right in front of me, its human eyes bore deep into mine as it uttered a single phrase, “The Night Has Come”. Just as the sun disappeared in the horizon I felt the earth shake as heavy footsteps approached in rapid succession and a deafening trumpet sounded from right behind me and I was struck from behind.
It was after I was struck that I was awakened. I did not tell Absko about this dream nor did I mention it to anyone else. Judging by the forlorn looks on everyone else’s faces I doubted I was the only one who had a fitful sleep that night. We pressed on throughout the day tracking the great beast. Its trail was not hard to miss as entire trees were found uprooted and boulders the size of horses were found overturned in its wake. There was also the presence of dark bloodstains left behind in its tracks, we could not determine if it came from the great beast itself or its most recent kill. Still, we pressed on until nightfall.
We made camp in the clearing of a thick underbrush as to be the least likely place to be attacked by a bull elephant. There were 8 of us altogether, 3 local African tribesmen including Absko, and 5 Europeans including myself. The young Alexandre. A stout and burly Dutchman named Bram who worked as a doctor in one of the nearby colonies. A fellow ex legionnaire named Micheal, and an elderly roman catholic missionary from Portugal whom we called Father Acosta.
Given the rumors of this beast’s origin being of the spiritual nature, he was assigned to our party to give spiritual aid if needed. Most of us were reluctant to take him along given his age and clerical status but to our astonishment, the Elderly Priest not only held his own but appeared barely winded on even the longest stretches of our incursions. He jokingly remarked afterward just because he spent the majority of his time behind a pulpit doesn’t mean he couldn’t out-trek any of us younger men. It was after this that he gained our respect.
It was Bram that took the first watch that night; I stayed awake with him for most of his watch, chatting briefly about our recent findings. “It’s a strange thing really,”, he muttered under his breath in his thickly accented French. “To act in this way, blindly attacking anything that stands in its path is unlike any case I have ever heard of”. I agreed solemnly, what we were going against was unlike anything I have ever heard of during my time in this contentment. Even in even in local legends.
It was then I noticed that unlike last night not a single sound could be heard, not even the mosquitos were found which admittingly is a blessing in disguise. I slept that night with my trusty rifle under my arm only to be greeted by the same dream, the only difference was the black figure of the tall man was much closer than it was before, and the footsteps of the beast seemed to plod consistently throughout the dream, as if “Shetani Tembo” himself stood over my sleeping figure his dark truck slowly reaching for my head.
May 24th, Fourth Day of the Hunt
I awoke again at the same point of the dream as the words once again escape the dead lion’s jaws “The Night Has Come”. As I looked around, I noticed that every member of the party lay in sleep as well. Bodies twisting and turning as they most likely had similar dreams as well. It was then that I noticed that the spot where Micheal slept was empty as the ex-legionnaire was nowhere to be found.
His rifle which never left his hands since the first day of the hunt lay there untouched. I shouted to alert our party as stood abruptly to their feet. “Who was on the last watch last night?” I demanded in anger. Absko motioned his head to the still sleeping form of Alexandre. I woke him up with a swift kick to the ribs. He awoke with a yelp and struggled to stand to his feet. I lifted him by the front of his sweat-stained shirt and yelled, “Where is Micheal”? “I don’t know”, He stammered in a panic. He was right there a second ago. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I’m sorry”. I shoved him back and roughly tossed his rifle into his arms. “You, Absko and Bram follow me, everyone else starts packing up camp.”
Not waiting for a reply, I stormed off into the bushes in search of our missing member. The others followed quickly behind. It was not long before we found him, or at least what remained of him. We found his body in a tree, his crumpled form barely recognizable and a steady stream of blood leaked from his neck where his head should have been. “Fils de pute” Bram cursed under his breath as he took in the sight.
Alexandre immediately doubled over and began to vomit profusely at the horrible sight. Absko just stood there his dark eyes never leaving the sight. It was him and myself who were given the task of bringing Micheal lifeless body from the tree and giving him a decent funeral. Father Acosta said a brief prayer and read a brief passage from his Bible. “To everything, there is a season. And a time to every purpose under heaven, a time to be born and a time to die; A time to plant and a time to harvest; a time to kill and a time to heal; a time to break down and a time to build up; a time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance; a time to love and a time to cast away; a time for war and a for and a time of peace…”
We trekked on as the trees began to become less frequent, and the land soon gave way into a vast and dusty planes. It appeared that not much grew here, even the few trees that remained were scarce and in different states of decay. Not even vultures hung on their branches as we moved onwards following the deep footprints of our great beast.
It was close, every once in a while the sound of distant trumpeting could be heard. Every single time it would bring a chill every one of us and Father Acosta would cross himself and mutter a brief prayer in Latin. We were forced to make camp that night out in the open, leaving us feeling exposed. We decided that we should take watch in twos to keep each other awake in the event one of us gave into slumber.
I sat there with Absko, the two of us sat facing away from each other back to back as to prevent either of us from becoming flanked as we had done many nights before during our many other hunts. Not a word was spoken between us as we sat their eyes trained on our surroundings. Nothing was ever needed to be said between us. We have known each other for years, and knew everything about each other.
He knew about my time served with the legion, and my family back home in Belgium. I knew of his wife and daughters back in his home village and how he carried a necklace made from animal bones and colorful stones wherever he went as it was a gift from them after he left to become a guide many years ago. He and I understood each other and respect that allowed us to work together effectively almost without uttering a single word. Together we had hunted down and killed countless dangerous animals varying from man-eating lions to rogue rhinoceroses.
There was something different that night as I no longer felt the sense of security that I usually did with his imposing figure seated behind me. With everything I had seen over the past few days, I felt a real sense of dread creeping into my mind as a brief tremor shook the ground as something large moved into the distance. We were getting closer than ever, and it would only be a matter of time before we would meet “Shetani Tembo” himself.
May 25th, Fifth day of the hunt.
That night my dream was just like it was before. The setting sun, the headless lions, the dark figure in the distance standing even closer than before. This time though it wasn’t the lion who spoke to me, it was the figure of Michel hanging from the tree his head now firmly in place eyes looking directly into mine as the ground shook behind me. “The Night Has Come”.
an angry shout from Absko awakened me. He stood there pacing looking around him in anger and shouting in his tribal tongue. I looked anxiously around me as I noticed our two other African guides were missing, as well as a generous portion of our food and water.
“I should have known this would happen, ” Absko shouted angrily. “Ever since last night, they have been acting suspicious. I knew by the look in their eyes they were cowards but I never once saw the eyes of a thief.” “Fear can make even the strongest men do desperate things,” said Father Acosta, causing me to look wearily at Alexandre who sat there dumbfounded. “Should we run the rascals down?” asked Bram, who instinctively slid a slug into his rifle.
“No , ” I replied firmly. “There is no time, we gather the rest of our supplies and continue the hunt”. Everyone began to comply as we packed up our camp and began to move on. Closer to our target, closer to the monster.
As the hours drew by, we came across what looked to be the dung of an elephant. Absko knelt and let his hand hover over it. “It is still warm,” he said in his usual monotone voice, “that means the beast is close”. A loud trumpet was then heard in the distance. As I listened to the sound, I noticed that it sounded very different from any elephant I had ever heard. It was almost like a mixture of a trumpet and a deep angry roar at the same time. The sound echoed across the planes as something that caught my eye in the distance.
There standing far away was a large dark figure making its way into what appeared to be a canyon which I estimated was a day’s journey away from where we stood. “Merde Merde MERDE”! I heard Alexandre shout as I saw his stagger back and fall onto his backside in shock. I follow his gaze to the droppings as what appeared to be a portion of a human skull grinned out of the pile of elephant feces. There was no denying it. This murderous beast not only removed the heads from the bodies of its prey but devoured them as well.
We made camp on the outskirts of the canyon as Father Acosta and Bram took the first watch. The two conversed while the Dutchman tended to a gash that the priest received on forearm after stumbling over one of the many rocky crevices. “So do you think this beast could be possessed by the devil himself?” Bram asked in a hushed voice. “It is very possible,” Acosta said, he winced as the Doctor roughly tightened the cloth over the open wound. “I don’t believe it is the devil himself but dark forces are certainly at work in this land”.
He inspected the Doctor’s work thoughtfully and then once again picked up Michael's rifle, whom he now carried as if it were his own. “The father of Evil is described in scripture as a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour”. He nodded grimly in the entrance's direction to the rocky passage. “Sound familiar”?
Bram nodded while twisting a stone necklace he wore around his neck. “I’m not exactly sure why an alleged herbivore would suddenly take to eating meat.” He said. “It could be pathological or related to the animal’s nutritional deficiencies in salt, iron or protein.” “Either way,” said the Priest, “These are dark times, and it is in those times where men need to stick together, a chord of one strand is easily broken but a chord of multiple strands is not.” Bram smiled as the Priest’s quote of scripture seemed to have some positive effect on his mood.
That all changed when a bellowing roar sounded from the entrance of the canyon. I immediately stood to my feet and aimed at the darkness. We all stood in a circle facing the darkness, rifles in hands, bodies ridged, eyes unblinking. The horrible trumpeting roar came again as a sudden gust of wind smothered the embers of our fire and we were suddenly shrouded in darkness. The night was silent and we could hear nothing but our heavy breaths. It was then that the slow but steady sound of footsteps began to move in our direction.
“The beast is heading right for us,” Bram said with fear in his voice. “Stand firm” I commanded the group, “If we stand together we can make it out of alive”. The ground shook as the footsteps began to get closer and closer. “Mon Dieu, Mon Dieu” Alexandre began to shout. “Be quiet!” I said in a hushed tone. “He knows where we are, Mon Dieu, I don’t want to die” He shouted as a deafening roar pierced the night.
Alexandre suddenly broke off from his position and began to run off into the night. “Stop you fool” Acosta shouted as he began to run after him. Absko reached out and grabbed the priest by the shoulder. “There is nothing we can do for him now,” he said, “He made his choice”. The heavy footsteps began to pick up speed as they followed in the direction of the fleeing Frenchman.
I aimed and fired into its direction as the night was suddenly lit up for a split second as the muzzle flashed. We saw the beast, for only a moment and the sight of it caused every muscle in my body to tense up. It was massive, from head to toe, its tusks long and pointed forwards, its leathery dark skin was a myriad of scar tissue from large claw marks to singular bullet wounds. The shafts of several spears were also seen still protruding from the great beasts hide.
The great footsteps continued with great speed as the beast continued to give chase. We listened in terror as the young man began to scream as the great beast eventually caught up to him. I quickly loaded my rifle as fast as I could as the screams intensified. Then just like that, the distant screams were suddenly cut short as the night was once again made silent as the grave. “We can’t stay in the open like this, ” whispered Absko. “Agreed” I replied, “We can’t stay here”.
A deep throaty roar then broke the silence as the heavy footsteps began to move back in our direction. “Quickly” I shouted, “Into the canyon”. Then abandoning the remainder of our supplies, we broke off in a sprint to the rocky outcropping. The footsteps thundered after us gaining speed.
We all made our way through the entrance as we blindly fumbled over the rocky terrain. The charging elephant did not slow down we heard the sound rocks crushing under its heavy feet as it made its way through the entrance. I then heard a surprised shout as I saw the figure of Father Acosta crumple to the ground, having lost his footing he now struggled to get back to his feet. “Matthis, Absko cover me” shouted Bram as he turned around and began to make his way to our fallen comrade. I once again raised my rifle and aimed in the direction of the footsteps. The resounding boom rattled my eardrums as the sound of the gunshot reverberated off of the stone walls of the passage. Once again I caught a glimpse of the beast, this time I knew for sure that I had hit my mark.
It bellowed in pain as I knelt to begin to reload my rifle. Behind me, Absko fired another slug in the direction of the creature. Having been paying attention to the location of the beast after my muzzle flash, his slug also hit its mark. The gigantic Bull Elephant just kept coming. Bram now had Father Acosta’s arm thrown over his shoulder and was assisting the old priest who was limping badly.
“They are never going to make it unless we draw the beast away from them” Shouted Absko. As he said this my mind immediately went to the flare gun, I kept in my pocket. I reached for it and pulled back the hammer. I made aim for the threshold between our two comrades and the charging elephant and pulled the trigger. The light flashed so bright I had to blink several times before I was able to see again.
It flew over Bram’s shoulder and bounced across the ground behind him. It was then for the first time that I fully saw the beast with my own eyes. It slowed to a stop, its bulging eyes looking at the strange glowing object in front of its face. Its long trunk curiously twitched in-between its long, freshly bloodstained tusks. Its shadow behind it in the flickering light danced across the rocky walls making the already massive beast look even more physically imposing.
Absko then shook me out of my daze. I looked behind me with a start and noticed that Bram and Father Acosta had made their way past us and were running toward the opening of what appeared to be a large cavern. Before I made my way back, I looked one last time into the eyes of the beast. I saw a hunger in those eyes unlike I had ever seen even in the eyes of the fiercest of carnivores.
I then made my hasty retreat to the cave’s entrance. Safe from the reach of the monstrosity behind us. None of us slept that night.
May 26th, Sixth day of the hunt.
As the light began to pour into the entrance of the cave, we slowly made our way outside. With rifles firmly pressed to our shoulders, we quickly scanned our surroundings. The beast was nowhere in sight.
“We were foolish to follow the beast this far” Absko said. “It knew we were coming, it wanted us to follow it here”. “We fell right into its trap” Bram muttered darkly as he tended to Father Acostas swollen ankle. Absko, and I scouted ahead to see if the coast was clear at the entrance of the canyon We were greeted by none other than the beast itself. It sat there almost motionless at the entrance as if waiting for us to dash for the exit.
We slowly made our retreat back to the cave entrance and updated the others of our findings. “Things got us cornered like a rat,” I said grimly. “Running away or sneaking past is not an option.” Father Acosta spoke up. “All of our food and water was left at the camp”.
We sat there pondering in silence for a minute. “We have no choice, we have at least 6 hours left of daylight, when night falls that is when the great beast will make his move.” I barked. “To make it out of here alive, we need to make a stand.”
May 27th, Seventh day of the hunt.
After spending the day preparing for our last stand, the four of us took shifts sleeping and keeping watch. For most of us, it had been 48 hours since the last time we slept so we needed to gather as much strength as we could. I offered to take the first watch but Absko insisted that I get some rest.
As fatigue and exhaustion eventually overtook me, I found myself, like every other night standing by that same tree. The headless lions, the blood-red sky, the male lion standing before me. This time was different though. Hanging from the tree were the crushed and headless bodies of the other members of the party. Bram, Father Acosta, Micheal, Even young Alexandre. My eyes darted back to where the lions were standing only to find that the creatures had vanished. The tall shrouded figure stood right before at an arm's length away. Its eyes the same sad eyes of the lion had in previous dreams. Those eyes, full of pain. Full of sadness. The earth began to shake as “Shetani Tembos familiar trumpet roared behind me.
As I opened my eyes, I found myself face to face with Absko he held a finger to his lips without making a sound. We both crouched behind a stone and looked into the darkness. Just ahead was the great demon elephant making its way through the valley. Its tusks glinted in the moonlight, its trunk curiously feeling among the stones. “Wake the others and get into position”. I whispered as Absko slipped away into the night.
Eventually, one after the other, the remaining three members of our hunting party gave their signals that they were in position. Father Acosta at the entrance of the cave, Absko and Bram on a ledge near the top of the rocky crevice, and I positioned at ground level with the beast. I aimed the lumbering bulk; it was too far away to make a decent shot. The .577 Black Powder Express could drop a full-grown elephant in its tracks, but at this distance in the dark, it was not guaranteed. I looked over to Father Acosta who also had the beast in his sights. He was in a much better position to take the shot. The great mass than stopped in its track, the sound it its trunk snuffing loudly and it began to move into the priest’s direction. Things were all going according to plan.
A loud boom resonated across the valley as Father Acosta’s muzzle flashed. The beast lurched forward not even slowing for a second toward the priest who had turned and ran making his way to the entrance of the cave. Once the beast reached the mouth of the cave and the priest was out of range, Bram and Absko made their move.
A large log sat above the cave entrance wedged against a pile of boulders we spent most of the day piling against it. Both men began to roll a large boulder intended to knock the log out from underneath, letting loose the flurry of stones upon the great beast. The boulder let loose, crashing hard against the log, but much to my horror, the log didn’t budge. A sharp cry then broke out as the elephant began to drag Father Acosta out of the cave with its great serpent-like trunk.
I cursed under my breath. This was not part of the plan. The stubborn priest’s previous injuries must have been more of a handicap than he let on. I watched in horror as Father Acosta reached out desperately grasping at anything he could to hold on to. At the rate, he was being dragged I have no doubt his fingers were being torn to the bone. Just then another gunshot broke out.
I looked up to see Bram standing at the edge of the cliff, kneeling to load another slug into his rifle. The elephant jolted in pain and and effortlessly tossed the priest against the rocky wall. Just then a loud crack broke out as the log suddenly gave way. Bram still knelt after just finishing loading his rifle as the boulders began to bounce in his direction. By the time he looked up, it was already too late.
A large slab hit him in his midsection and he was sent spiraling off of the cliffs face. A large dust cloud was kicked up as the large boulders crashed down upon the beast. The elephant cried out in a mix of anger and surprise, and he was pelted over again by the falling stones. As the dust settled, my heart began to race as I desperately began to scan the rubble in search of my friends. Bram lay face down just at the mouth of the cave, but there were no signs of Absko nor the priest.
Just then slowly the rocks began to fall away as the great beast shook himself free of the fallen stones and began to move toward the fallen doctor. Bram sat up groggily and began to lift his rifle, but the beast was already upon him. With a great swipe from its trunk, it knocked Bram back a few feet; the rifle flew from his grasp.
I watched in terror, wanting desperately to leave my post and rush to my friend’s aid but there was nothing I could do. I was too far away to make a decent shot. All I could do was watch as the beast lifted one of his large legs and with a heavy stomp, snuffed the life out of the Dutchmen. Bram did not scream as the others did; Instead ,he sat there staring the beast in the eye with a look of defiance. Courageous from the beginning to the end.
It was then the beast looked in my direction, seeing me standing in the open with almost no cover. It reared up on its hind legs trumpeting loudly as if ushering a challenge. I just stood there, still as a corpse and as silent as the grave. The ground shook as it charged in my direction. Head low, tusks pointed forward and ears flapping like the sales of a ship in the wind.
Just a few steps closer and this beast would be in range, I aimed with my rifle and aimed right between the tusks. The beast let out a low growl as it quickly closed the threshold between the two of us. I didn’t take the shot. Not having enough time to reload or take cover, I knew that this had to be the killing blow. Only one of us would walk away from this fight tonight, the man or the beast.
Just as the beast was only several meters away from me a bright red light flashed from behind us as Absko took fired the last remaining flair from his spot on the cliff lighting up the entire canyon in a red glow. I could see the beast now clear as day, Its dark scarred flesh, its blood-stained tusk, its long serpentine trunk and its dark bulging eyes that bore into me like knives. It reminded me of my dream that very first night, the earth-shaking, the blood-red sky, the billowing trumpet. Only this time, I stood facing the beast head-on. I squeezed the trigger.
The slug bore deep into the elephant’s skull as the great beast let out a pained cry. Its two front legs gave way as the beast fell to the ground. I dove to the side as the fallen monster skidded to a stop tusks merely inches from my exposed chest. I stood to my feet and took in the whole sight. The beast lay still, its only movement coming from its heaving chest as it took its final breaths. Its trunk moved lazily across the ground like a dying snake and its eyes slowly moved to where I was standing.
I stared in wonder as I noticed the eyes were different now, it was not hatred in the eyes of the beast, nor anger or hunger, but relief. The beast took its last breath and just like that, the great Satani Tembo was dead.
June 1st, Final entry.
The following is what took place after the last day of the hunt.
The next morning that followed our last stand, we took the time to examine the body of the great beast. To our surprise, what we thought was just an average overgrown bull elephant seemed to be everything but average. At a closer glance in broad daylight, our party discovered strange carvings in its giant tusks and the flesh around its eyes. There were strange markings also cut into the flesh of its feet as well.
Absko and Father Acosta both confirmed that these markings were symbols of dark power and could very well be the work of a powerful witch doctor. Absko refused to translate the strange symbols for us and Father Acosta strongly insisted that we burn the body to ensure no dark forces would be able to use its vessel again. We burned the beast that same day saving nothing but its tail to bring to the village elders as proof of its demise.
We buried the remains of Bram at the entrance of the cave with all of his belongings. Father Acosta kept the bone necklace the doctor always wore and hung it next to the cross that hung over his heart. He told us it was given as a gift to the doctor by one of the many people whose lives he saved from sickness and disease. Each stone represented a child in that village who would not be alive if it were not for him. The priest wore that necklace until the end of his days to remember the man who gave his life so that we may live on.
Absko returned to his home village, claiming that it was time for him to return to his wife and daughters. With the great beast gone he could rest easy knowing that his loved ones were safe. I bid my friend farewell, and he left without a word. No words needed to be spoken between us, we both knew that this would not be the last we would see of each other. As long as there were beasts that hungered for human flesh and dark forces still unknown to man, the hunt was never truly over.
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