The Hunter's reflection: A Journey Of The Soul

‘Existence is perhaps the secret of the entire Universe, which we may never decipher. What miracle is needed for billions of molecules to combine and form a mass capable of breathing, feeling, creating, and loving? We might call it the soul, which provides the starting engine for the whole, but a question arises. What kind of soul is it that arbitrarily imprisons another set of molecules, uses it for its own amusement, or simply kills it, because it believes that it will make it more?’

— The Author

Chapter 1

Vultures rode the dry sky, circling above an acacia tree that provided some relief for those lying underneath from the fervid afternoon heat of the savanna. The acacia's fern-like leaves cast a large shadow umbrella for two men seeking shelter from the intense heat, which caused every drop of sweat to boil to their very core. They had not chosen this tree by chance — it also offered sturdy support for a shoddy birdwatching platform, though neither man was carrying a camera.

One of them held a double-barreled rifle, cleaning it with a tiny brush, working through every slot and hatch because African sand could get everywhere. From his chin, a small drop of sweat rolled straight onto the barrel, turning to steam almost immediately. He pulled the .600 ammo in and out of the barrel several times, ensuring it wouldn't stick when the time came for death. The entire land was dead silent. Only the wind made noise as it pierced softly through the acacia's leaves.

"I really don't get it. Why are you cleaning that? We're not going to use them." The younger man broke the silence.

"Are you serious?" Andrew turned his gaze toward his young partner, who could have been his son had he been in Ghana twenty-two years ago. "I've already told you, Ababio — we have to prepare for everything. Just go through the plan again." He waved his hand toward his partner as if shooing away a bothersome fly.

"Alrighty, Mr. Andy."

"And stop calling me that. My name is Andrew, not Andy." He wiped several drops of sweat from his grey hair, his fingers catching on his ear — missing an almost two-centimeter piece from the tip. The wound from a small mongoose had taught him to always be wary, regardless of prey size. Not to mention the ones with tons of weight walking the endless savanna in herds.

Andrew set aside the rifle, then reached for the holster on his right. He removed the .50 ammo from his revolver's cylinder and cleaned the weapon thoroughly, following the same procedure he'd used on the rifle. Upon finishing, he kissed the gun's backside near the hammer and returned the oversized ammunition. The cylinder fit only five rounds. Andrew always cleaned his M500 revolver — a firearm that had saved his life many times before.

"Sorry, Mr. Andrew. I still don't get it. I think we should have hired more people for this job." Andrew remained silent. "The herd is large, the heat is overwhelming, and the animals are more on edge in these conditions. I think I'll call Kojo to come here and —"

"Look through the binoculars!" Raising his right hand with fingers clutched into a fist, Andrew watched Ababio swallow hard and follow his superior's command without question. "Look northeast. What can you see?"

"I can see two men installing the transformer on the steel cages."

"No. You can see James and Massimiliano. Our collaboration spans years. Their reliability is unwavering. Now look southwest!"

"Y-yes, sir."

"You don't see just two men. You see Emeric and Carlos laying down the charges. Carlos saved me from a tiger's claws in Sumatra and from a cayman in South America. Do you understand now?" Sweat poured from Ababio's brow, showing he didn't understand. "We are not colleagues having a nice cup of coffee on our ten-minute break at the office. We are brothers-in-arms who help each other in every situation."

"I see."

"And now you are one of us." Ababio took a deep breath, looked at his boss, and smiled. But Andrew's mouth stayed in a straight line as he simply asked for the binoculars and the plans.

"Is everything all right?" Ababio asked.

"Let's review the plan again." Andrew took out a large paper from a plastic roller and spread the A1-sized sheet on the platform's floor, which cracked under the hunter as he made himself comfortable. "So, these are the cages." He pointed to two black rectangles on the paper. "Two 200x200 steel boxes. Underneath them, there's an eight-inch-thick insulation layer. On the sides of the boxes, there are several transformers, each individually capable of generating several kilovolts. Why is this necessary?" Andrew looked at the boy.

Ababio fumbled for the right words. "Because the customer doesn't want any bullet marks on the products. The customer wants everything — meat, skin, bones. So we're executing them with electricity, like white men do with pigs."

"Good. Massimiliano, how are you doing with the cabling?" Andrew raised a walkie-talkie to his mouth.

"Everything is going according to plan, Andrew."

"Thanks. Now, back to the plan. What are these?" Andrew pointed at the marks located around the cages, arranged in several concentric circles of increasing diameter.

"These are satchel charges, which are —"

"Which are, despite their name —"

"Despite their name, they're not real satchel charges. More like large firecrackers. They emit powerful light and sound as they detonate to scare off the herd."

"Well done. Go on."

"The charges are activated at specific times and in sequence to drive the basically scattered herd further and further in, straight toward the cages."

"I'm impressed. What's this?" Andrew put his finger on two larger rectangles.

"That's Plan B. Those two stations would detonate the charges all at once if something went wrong."

"No mistakes so far. What else?"

"What else?" Scratching his head and looking at the floor, Ababio said nothing. Andrew stared at him and his watch, waiting for the answer. Then he gave up.

"No cubs in the herd!" He shouted so loud that even Ababio's eyebrows froze for a moment. "This is why we came here. We located a herd where all members are over three years old. Cubs can easily become scared, lack experience, and stray from the herd. Meanwhile, mothers will do everything to protect their babies."

"I don't understand. Why would a mother-cub pair be so dangerous?"

"Ababio." Clutching his teeth and furrowing his brows, Andrew turned his whole face to look deep into his subordinate's eyes. "You live in Africa, yet you lack so much knowledge? The probability is damn high that the mother is also the matriarch. If she goes after her cub, the rest will follow her, and the entire plan could go to waste because of one mother-cub pair. Carlos, what's the situation with the charges?"

"We're almost finished. Emeric has covered them all with sand, so they won't notice a thing."

"Great. Thank you — splendid job!"

With his binoculars in hand, Andrew examined the terrain once more. They had set the traps. The explosives lay hidden beneath the sand, ready for detonation. Carlos and Emeric were in their hunting lodge, facing away from James and Massimiliano's lodge. These three lodges formed a triangle, providing full observation of the area.

Lowering his binoculars, Andrew smiled as he reviewed the plan, experiencing pride rather than mere satisfaction — the kind a mother feels when her baby takes its first steps, beginning life's journey. No one had done anything comparable. It left Andrew breathless. He was still in his prime.

"I still think we should have hired more people."

"Damn it, Ababio. Believe me, those four are worth twenty men. And besides, there's one more thing."

"What?"

"A rampaging herd, even with a hundred men present, significantly increases the risk of fatalities if something goes wrong."

"Come on. What could go wrong?"

"Anything! And then forty enraged animals would be running around, trampling everything and everyone in their way. And the bigger the number of people —"

"The more human casualties there would be." Ababio slapped his forehead.

"Then the rangers would show up and shoot all the animals for killing people, to stop further deaths. To emphasize: there will be no opportunity to return and finish the job."

"Gee, boss. I hadn't even thought about that."

"No sweat, kid." He sighed gently. "At least you're asking, which shows some intelligence." Andrew saw Ababio's mouth bend into an upward curve, though the boy's feelings didn't matter much to him. The team neared completion. Andrew surveyed the vast savanna, hoping it was his last view before the event. Vultures circled overhead, almost knowing what was to come. Yet they'd get nothing from the prey — not even gristle.

"Andrew, I think they're coming."

"I hear you, James. Let's see." Taking out his monocular, Andrew lifted it to his eye and scanned the horizon. "You're right. The moneybags are closing in."

An army of giants appeared in the distance, breaking the monotony of the undulating horizon. The matriarch walked proudly in front, fanning herself with her huge, napkin-sized ears and scratching her deep-set, bulging eyes with her trunk. Thirty-nine African elephants followed her — including an aunt, a brother-in-law, and a young bull. Through his monocular, Andrew saw the ground shake, pebbles bouncing from the giants' distant steps. Their stomachs rumbled, creating a unique savanna symphony that echoed for miles, alerting all animals — including other elephants — of their approach to prevent any obstruction. This multitude of more than one hundred and sixty tons would trample everything in its path.

Andrew had named only the matriarch: MBP, which stood for MoneyBagPrime. The grey-haired hunter licked the corner of his mouth, watching the herd approach, already feeling the millions of dollars in his rough grasp.

Then the forty-year-old matriarch stopped. She turned her large black eyes toward the cages, raised her trunk, and sniffed the air. Andrew's fingers tightened on his monocular. He swallowed. After a few minutes of sniffing, MBP finally lowered her trunk and continued on. Andrew sighed. Fortunately, his men had covered the cages well with tree branches and leaves, making the traps look like wind-blown debris. MBP moved forward, but more slowly.

Andrew nearly crushed the monocular in his hand, his palms dripping with sweat. Whether the matriarch slowed due to awareness or fatigue remained unclear. He put down the monocular and picked up the double-barreled rifle, cracking it open to insert two .600 Nitro rounds. If he had to, he would kill them all one by one himself — even though the customer would pay significantly less.

"Listen up! Load your guns. I'm authorizing Plan C." Even the veteran Carlos knew what this meant. Andrew's heart nearly crawled out of his chest. For a moment, he wondered if the others were following the herd's movements as intently as he was.

Ten minutes. Everybody got ten minutes of stress. Andrew had previously calculated the time it would take the giant army to reach the edge of the charge system — the "zero point." Seeing the herd clearly now, Andrew put away the monocular for good. Taking the joystick in his hands, he pushed the button, unleashing the chain reaction.

An explosion of light and dust covered the savanna, shattering the land's equanimous silence. Despite the blinding curtain of dust, Andrew could see MBP raising her trunk and shaking her head — it was impossible for her to spot even a lion in that flying cloud. Each daughter, positioned at her side, bolted in a different direction, trunks raised. The family stirred up like a beehive, panic spreading like a virus. The elephants clearly didn't know what had hit them. Andrew was smiling when the second section detonated.

The explosion cut off the group's movement to the right. Next, the fourth section followed, five meters ahead of the first. The fifth was similarly positioned, five meters before the second. There was no stopping the chain reaction.

The deafening noise and blinding dust were having their effect. The herd was drawing closer and closer to the two metal cups of death. Andrew watched silently, neglecting to communicate with the others about the cages' condition — watching passively, like some bizarre performance unfolding before him. The specimens bounced off each other like billiard balls on a dry, dusty pool table, and Andrew was the cue ball. He rested his hands on the rifle, though he could feel his own heartbeat at the tips of his fingers. The animals would be theirs after only a few more meters and sections.

But then something happened.

A small grey figure burst out of the thick cloud of dust, not following the family's movements. Andrew recognized it immediately — a cub, a baby elephant barely a few months old. Despite the burning sun, sweat froze on Andrew's skin. How had they gotten this so wrong? He had tasked Carlos with finding a family without a calf. But Carlos might have delegated the task to Ababio.

In the flashing storm of his thoughts, Andrew jumped down from the lodge, the .600 rifle in his hand. The cub was racing toward the control stations — toward Plan B and simultaneous detonation. Everything had been going as planned until the baby jeopardized it. The hunter ran.

Andrew couldn't aim at the rushing elephant through the flying dust. He had to get closer. His heart hammered against his chest, muscles straining in his legs. His stomach convulsed with a cramping yet exhilarating sensation.

The thrill of the hunt. He was even grateful to this cub for letting him relive it.

As the distance closed, Andrew kept blowing out short, controlled breaths. Sniper technique — ensuring every muscle in his body was primed for the shot, saving precious seconds. Fifty meters. Eyes on the target. He put his left knee to the ground. His finger strained on the trigger.

Then the ground disappeared beneath him.

Andrew opened his eyes. For just a second, he had lost consciousness, though his heart was still pumping like a loose machine gun. He didn't know where he was or what had happened. All he remembered was the cub — until he looked at his leg. A thirty-centimeter spike had emerged from his wound; blood poured forth. Still, he didn't fully understand. His hand moved slowly along his torso and stopped just below the right side. Moving his gaze down, he trembled: another bloody spike was protruding from his body. He scanned the area, turning his head slowly, and observed a low sand wall ahead. When he glanced to his right, he saw many more spikes firmly planted in the ground to prevent any escape.

Finally, he understood. He was in an animal trap — set by who knows whom, for who knows what. Then the pain arrived: overwhelming, grim, total. Andrew tried to call for help. He could not. His breathing began to slow. The explosions and the trumpeting of the elephants were just noise now, distant and meaningless. Above him: only indistinct shapes — sky, vultures, sun. His last breath was a silent scream. And then everything went dark.