Nate kept his shotgun raised and centered on the giant fellow he had first seen, crouched by the boulder off to the left. Despite the noises and the chatter of rattling rock debris, the creature had remained stone still.
Other shadowy figures fled from the bombarded slope. Others lay unmoving, dead, shredded.
“Go!” Waxman barked sharply, his command cutting through the explosions. “Make for the cave!”
The group lurched through the fringe of brush and jungle toward the open rocky landscape at the foot of the towering cliffs. Nate kept his shotgun pointed at the cat, finger tensed on the shotgun’s trigger. If it even flicks its tail…
Waxman waved them on, Kostos in the lead. “Get up there before they regroup!” The captain dropped beside Carrera. Behind them, the pack converged along their trail. Several limped or sniffed at a dead mate, but they kept a wary distance now.
Nate sidled past the silent cat off to the left. Only its eyes followed their passage. Nate suspected this was the leader of the pack. Behind that cold gaze, Nate could almost see the thing weighing these strangers, judging them.
Carrera had switched her weapon off automatic, conserving her ammunition. She fired at a lone cat getting too near. Her aim was off. The silver disk shaved the jaguar’s ear and whizzed off into the jungle. The wounded cat dropped to its belly, glowering with pain and anger.
“Keep moving!” Waxman yelled.
By now, the cave was in direct sight. The group’s tense pace collapsed into a panicked rout. Kostos led the way. He raised a flare pistol and fired it into the opening. A bright trace flashed out of the pistol’s muzzle and exploded with light inside the cavern.
The deep cave was illuminated all the way to its rocky end.
“All clear!” Kostos hollered. “Move it!”
Olin, Zane, and Anna were the first to race inside. The sergeant stood at the entrance, M-16 in hand, waving his arm. “Move, move, move…”
Frank pushed Kelly ahead of him. Professor Kouwe ran beside him.
As the flares died out overhead, Nate took up a position on the other side of the entrance, shotgun ready.
Manny and Tor-tor followed with Waxman and Carrera on their heels.
They were going to make it, Nate realized.
Then a jaguar leaped from the deepening shadows, landing atop a boulder right beside the last two Rangers. Carrera dropped and aimed her weapon, but before she could fire, a paw struck out and raked into the chest of the team’s captain.
Waxman was yanked off his feet, sailing into the air, claws sunk deep into his field jacket and chest. He bellowed, bringing up his own weapon. He fired over his head, striking the cat in the shoulder. The beast toppled backward, dragging the hooked captain with it. His body flew over the boulder, limbs kicking.
Carrera lunged up and ran around the boulder, going to the aid of her captain. Out of sight, Nate heard the characteristic whir of her weapon. Then suddenly she was backing into sight again. On her trail were a pair of jaguars. They were bleeding, embedded bits of silver decorating their flesh. Carrera was obviously struggling with the cartridge to her weapon, out of ammo disks.
Nate leaped away from the cave wall and ran toward her. As he reached her side, he shoved his shotgun to arms’ length, the muzzle only a foot away from the snarling face of one of the jaguars. He pulled the trigger, and the beast flew back, howling.
Carrera unholstered her 9mm pistol. She fired and fired at the other jaguar, unloading the clip. It fell back, then collapsed.
They stumbled up the slope.
Around the other side of the boulder, the captain fell into sight, crawling, one arm gone. His face was a bloody ruin.
“I…I thought he was dead,” Carrera said with shock, stepping in his direction.
The captain crawled half a step, then a paw shot out and dug into the meat of his thigh. He was pulled back toward the hidden shadows. He screamed, fingers digging at the loose shale, finding no purchase.
A shot cracked. The captain’s head flew back, then forward, striking the rock hard. Dead. Nate glanced behind him and saw Kostos crouched with his M-16 in hand, eyes fixed to its sniper scope. The sergeant slowly lowered his weapon, his expression pained and ripe with hard guilt.
“Everyone, get inside!” he yelled.
The party had remained clustered near the entrance.
Nate and Carrera hurried toward the cavern mouth.
Frank and Kostos flanked the threshold, weapons ready. The men were limned against the glare of the dying flare inside the passage. Frank waved to them. “Hurry!”
From Nate’s position several yards down the escarpment, he spotted a deeper shadow shift along the base of the rocky cliff. To the left of the cave opening. “Watch out!”
It was the largest of the jaguars, the one Nate had first spotted.
It sprang past the mouth of the cave. Frank was bowled over, flying high into the air and landing on his back. Kostos was slammed into the wall. Then the cat was gone, racing back into the shadows below.
Kelly screamed. “Frank!”
Nate ran with Carrera. Kostos picked himself off the ground, wheezing and holding his chest, dazed.
“Help me!” Kelly yelled.
Frank lay writhing in the shale. Kelly’s brother hadn’t just been knocked off his feet. Both his legs were gone from the knees down. Blood spurted and jetted across the stones. In those few seconds, the giant jaguar had sheared off the limbs, as cleanly as a guillotine.
Kouwe fell to Frank’s other side. Olin helped drag the moaning man into the cave. Kelly followed, yanking tourniquets from her pack. Plastic vials of morphine tumbled to the floor. Nate retrieved them.
Near the entrance, a shot was fired. Light burst outside. Another flare. Nate held out the vials of morphine, feeling useless, stunned.
Kouwe took them. “Go watch our back.” He nodded to the entrance.
Olin and Kelly worked on the stricken man. Tears flowed down Kelly’s cheeks, but her face was tight with determination and concentration. She refused to lose her brother.
Nate turned with his shotgun and joined Kostos and Carrera at the cave’s opening. The new flare showed that the jungle still moved with shadows. The bouldered slope offered additional cover for the cats.
Manny joined them, pistol in one hand. Tor-tor sniffed at Frank’s blood on the rock and growled.
“I count at least another fifteen,” Carrera said, face half covered with night-vision goggles. “They’re not leaving.”
Kostos swore. “If they rush us, we couldn’t hope to stop them all. We’re down to one grenade launcher, two M-16s, and a handful of pistols.”