Instinct: A Chess Team Adventure - By Jeremy Robinson Page 0,102
his body. Not on their mission. Not on his voice or his eyes or any of the other things women might think of when they thought about men. She focused on his uncanny ability to stay alive in the worst of situations, hoping to channel some of that confidence and cunning into herself.
If she didn’t . . . she’d be a slave for the rest of her life.
Or dead within the hour.
FORTY-SEVEN
A LONE HYBRID Neanderthal crept through the jungle, avoiding twigs and dry leaves that might give away his position. As a sentry it was his duty to patrol the area directly surrounding the settlement. There were other sentries keeping watch, some on the ground, some in the trees, all keeping an eye out for dangerous animals or human military units that might pose a threat. He looked forward to the day when the renovations to Meru City were complete and their people could move out of the settlement and into the mountain itself. He had been chosen as chief lookout because of his keen eyesight. He would keep an eye on the city from high in the temple—the last line of defense against those who might manage to slip past their outer defenses. His days of sneaking around the jungle were almost at an end.
The hybrid stopped and sniffed at the air. Something unfamiliar had passed by recently. But he couldn’t place it. Perhaps an animal, or even one of the old mothers? They often smelled foreign as they roamed the jungle, killing and eating whatever they could find. He envied the old mothers sometimes. They were free to hunt and eat what they wanted. Red had taken him to hunt once, when he was still young. They found two human women fetching water at the river. He’d tasted, and enjoyed, both, washing the blood from his hands and mouth before returning home. Father would have been upset because he was human, but he was not like the others. He was family.
He pushed thoughts of his parents from his mind. The internal battle between the old and new worlds of his people would distract him from his duty. His nose and ears lacked the sensitivity that his eyes possessed, so he stood perfectly still and observed the world around him. Light shimmered as the canopy overhead swayed in a light afternoon breeze. Branches groaned, leaves rustled, and the denizens of the forest sang out. Everything sounded normal. But the smell lingered.
Then he saw it. A piece of torn fabric hanging on a dead branch. He walked to the branch and picked up the cloth. With the fabric pressed against his nose, he breathed in deeply. The smell filled his nostrils. Someone had been here . . . someone human had made it past. Humans were really no threat; even armed with guns they rarely put up a fight. He never felt the need to carry a weapon of his own, though sometimes they used their enemies’ weapons against them as they had during the attack on the VPLA camp. Of course, Father taught them that some human weapons were powerful enough to destroy entire mountains.
Even one human making it into the settlement could be disastrous.
He thought for a moment about hunting down the invader on his own. With no one around he could have his fill and bury the evidence, or throw the body in the river. But he decided against it. There was no way to know how many humans there were.
With his powerful lungs and broad chest, the guards back in the settlement would hear his call and know that someone had made it inside the perimeter. Their entire population would set out to find the humans and would no doubt round them up within minutes. He took a deep breath and then . . .
“Hey, buddy.” It was just a whisper, but the sound spun the hybrid like a top.
Expecting to see his foe approaching by land, the hybrid failed to see the figure descending from above until it was too late. Before any warning could be shouted, a spear fashioned from a straight branch sharpened to a point burst from his stomach, thrust through from behind. The hybrid’s eyes went wide as the plummeting shadow resolved into a mud-covered, nearly naked human female. Her eyes showed bright white and blue from behind her darkened mud covering. And in her hands . . . another spear, thrust out toward his open mouth.