SECTOR C
Description:
A peek into the mystery of SECTOR C just for Red Adept readers!
Cloning Ice Age mammoths and saber-tooth cats for canned hunts seems like a good business venture — until it reintroduces the species-jumping pandemic that wiped out the megabeasts 10,000 years ago. Now history is about to repeat itself, with humans the next target for extinction.
Solid mystery in the beginning, fun thrills at the end.
A restrained hand makes the crisis not only plausible, you’ll be watching the news certain that its inevitable.
An intelligent thriller … It’s one ah-ha moment after another.
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Excerpt:
Vikram Shankar squinted down the long metal barrel. Framed squarely in the sight, not two hundred feet away, the white tiger sat on its haunches, its lower jaw drooping, ribs rippling under a mat of chocolate-striped fur.
A sweet shot.
Vikram’s right finger closed over the trigger. He inhaled slowly, deliberately.
The nasal whounk-ing of a snow goose flying overhead pricked the big cat’s ears and the heavy-set head swung toward the sound. With pounding heart, Vikram exhaled.
The sight bead wavered. He glanced down, and realized his left arm had begun to tremble.
Hell. Not now.
He willed his arm still, but it jerked — wide — then jerked again. The barrel danced in front of him.
Something — whether the movement or some slight sound Vikram made — drew the cat’s attention. It rolled into a crouch, facing Vikram’s blind. Sunlight bouncing off the snow caught its blue eyes and they glistened like tanzanite as it peered into the camouflage.
The rifle steadied as Vikram’s muscle spasms quieted. Again he sighted down the barrel, waiting for another clean shot.
After a moment, the tiger rose, shook itself and padded across the snow, a slight drag to its hind leg its only imperfection.
A small veer and the cat presented perfectly. Vikram squeezed the trigger.
“Shit!” His left arm jerked the barrel aside just as the bullet lunged from its chamber. He was already setting up a second shot even as the tiger stumbled. A streak of blood bloomed across its shoulder. When the cat recovered two steps later, Vikram knew the first bullet had only grazed it.
He tried to sight again, but his left hand slipped off the barrel and his arm flailed wildly.
“No!” His cry followed the retreating cat as it leapt through the snow.
The tiger arrowed toward the far end of the pen where the fence jutted rudely. It hurled itself up, but the timbers, slanting inward, were too high to clear. It snarled as its heavy body fell back to the ground.
From the iron-barred blind, Vikram watched the cat — his cat — and cursed.
~~~
The wiry keeper monitoring the hunt grabbed the rifle leaning against the watchtower wall. He scooped up three loaded darts and headed out, letting the iron gate swing closed behind him.
He pushed his palm out toward the blind where Vikram still sat, cursing his arm, the cat, and anything else that came to mind. “Stay there until he’s down. It may take a few minutes once he’s hit.” Gripping the rifle comfortably, Lim Chiou walked out a few hundred feet, stopping within easy range of the pacing cat where he loaded a dart into the gun.
The tiger edged away from Lim, following the fence. Putting the rifle to his shoulder, the keeper took aim, then fired, looking for the dart to embed itself in the cat’s muscular flank.
Instead, the dart nosed into the snow several yards short of its target.
“What the –” Lim stared at the broken dart, grimacing at the naked cartridge. A quick scan of the white ground turned up its bright red tailpiece 40 feet away.
Agitated, the cat bounded across the pen, leaping at the fence, looking for a weakness, a break. It hit the unlatched gate and the gate bounced on its hinges.
For a tantalizing moment, a sliver of an opening appeared.
Lim grabbed another dart to load.
In the blind Vikram, knowing the cat was beyond rifle range, raised the stock to his shoulder anyway, drew in a steadying breath and sighted.
The big cat swatted at the gate, causing it to bounce again. This time the cat hooked a paw through the narrow space that appeared between gate and fence. Then it froze, holding the gate partially open, unsure what to do next.
In the center of the pen, a rifle cracked. A single bullet ricocheted against the gate’s iron frame and fell harmlessly away. Startled, the tiger flinched, snatching back its outstretched leg. A claw caught in the frame, dragging the gate open along the arc of its retreating paw.
Without hesitation, it shouldered past the gate and sprang beyond it. A heavy dart flew after the fleeing cat, catching on the edge of the gate that swung closed behind it.
By the time Lim hit the gate at a run with his third dart loaded, the white tiger had disappeared into the Dakota hills.
SECTOR C
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