The Last Hunt
A work of fiction by Tsao Alexander
Waterton Publishing Company
No part of this book was created using Artificial Intelligence (AI).
This is a work of fiction. The events described are imaginary and the settings and characters are fictitious and not intended to represent actual places, companies, or persons.
Copyright © 2026 by Waterton Publishing Company. All Rights Reserved.
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THE LAST HUNT
CHAPTER 12
Tom could not sleep. It was warm in his cabin and the apprehension of the impending unknown was causing his mind to race. He would be alone in the wilderness, surrounded by predators, armed with only a handgun and knife.
After tossing and turning for most of the night, Tom got out of bed and made his way outside to the veranda. It was pitch black except for a smoldering fire and a million stars. He sat in a chair and swatted at insects closing in for a late snack. In the not-so-far distance, Tom could hear the bickering of various nocturnal mammals and birds. He wondered if he could hear a lion and listened intently for a snarl.
Then something moved in the brush next to the cabin. Tom could hear it. He could feel it, a presence, an animal prowling near the camp. Tom froze.
“It’s only me.” It was Gabelo speaking in a low voice as he walked around from the side of the cabin. He carried a flashlight and rifle.
“Geez! You scared the bejesus out of me,” Tom was shaking.
“Sorry,” Gab said, “I wanted to check the supply tent. There were lion prints. A big male. Pretty recent. You should probably stay in the cabin at night.”
“How close?” Thomas asked.
“Around the supply tent; that’s why I am going to add some wood to the fire. That’s where we usually put the supply tent and we’ve never had a problem.” Gabelo walked over to the fire and stuck a couple of branches on the embers.
Then he walked over to where Tom was sitting and offered some intended comfort: “Don’t be too worried. Lions aren’t really interested in you or I. They want to catch some napping zebra or buffalo. A large animal.”
Tom stood. “Well, I think I’ll go back inside nonetheless. Good night.”
Clarence too could not sleep. He was playing out the various possibilities surrounding Heather Roberts’ disappearance. She panicked when her husband was killed and ran. Was it at night? How could she survive? What about the radio? She did not know that her husband was in the river and went to look for him. That possibility made sense. But where is she now? It appeared as though she had made it back to camp. Where did she go from here? And why?
Sunrise and the melody of countless birds brought the search team out of their tents to a congregation around the dining table. Coffee was already brewing, thanks to Clarence, who had given up on trying to sleep at about three-thirty. He had been trying to figure out how to disburse the search parties to have the best chance of finding Mrs. Roberts.
But the task was problematic. Heather Roberts could have gone in any direction from camp and none of the searchers reported any sign of her yesterday. Other than boot prints on the one trail leading from the river to the camp.
“We could really use Shammi,” Clarence said to Vince, who agreed.
Clarence poured himself a fourth cup of coffee and sat on the table. He remained silent for several minutes before hearing a faint radio ring and bolting for his tent. “Yes, yes Lieutenant, I hear you fine,” Clarence was catching his breath while talking to the young police Lieutenant, “No, just some footprints I’m afraid, and some riddles.”
The Lieutenant broke in: “Well, I’ve got some news for you which should only help to compound your riddles. That Roberts chap had a bullet wound. A rather deadly one; left temple clean through. The buffalo may have trampled him, but that animal did not kill him. A nine-millimeter round killed him. Shot from very close range.”
Clarence smiled. “Ah ha,” he said. “No Lieutenant, that does not compound my riddles, that solves a few actually. It seems the Misses came back to camp and then left again. And she ditched her radio. And there were no other tracks. It appears she shot her husband, he fell in the river, or she dragged him there, and then she made her getaway. All the easier because we were operating under the assumption she wanted to be found. That gave her an extra three or four days. She could be anywhere by now. Dead or alive.”
“I’ll check the airports in the area, and the bus terminals, but it doesn’t look good.” The young Lieutenant sounded rather demoralized. “This is my first murder. I guess for now we’ll call it a homicide. Not a murder. We don’t know yet what happened. Maybe self-defense? Anyway, my record will be rather bleak if I don’t solve my first felony case.”
“Cheer up!” Clarence encouraged; “We have the best tracker in the territory, and I’ll find a way to put him on the task, somehow, and at least we’ll know generally where she went. You work your end and I’ll work our end. She’ll turn up. Add to that we have a whole file on the Roberts, addresses, employers, the whole picture. Assuming it’s true; this wasn’t planned. I’ll have it faxed over to you. Yvonne is at the lodge and she can do it.”