The
effect of Jarrod's approach was disconcerting. The bar was
nearly empty, and I was the only one present with a skin color
lighter than charcoal. Still, I hadn't seen him look around
once at the rest of the bar, or even pause to let his good eye adjust
to the gloom inside. He merely continued to stare at me,
occasionally letting out another giggle.
I
was the first to talk. "I heard your name from the
Sandline mercenary outfit," I said. "I was told that
you would be able to arrange for me to-"
"Yes,
I know what it is you want," Jarrod interrupted, still grinning
wildly. "You want to conquer, to stare into the eyes of
the wild. You want me to take you to my special place, to face
the beasts."
Even
his speech was disjointed, off-putting. "Rhinos," I
said clearly. "I want to shoot a rhino."
The
man's grin didn't diminish "Yes, the great horned ones,"
he replied. "They are there. When the price is paid,
I shall take you to them."
"And
how much will this cost me?"
To
my surprise, Jarrod merely shrugged, looking unconcerned. "Ten
thousand," he said. "Yes, ten thousand for my
services as your guide. If we stay longer than a fortnight,
maybe it will be more."
This
whole setup seemed wrong. It was too easy, too out in the open.
Jarrod didn't seem worried about the laws he was breaking,
about the security forces that we would have to evade. "Five
thousand up front," I said, feeling cagey. "The rest
will be paid only after I've gotten my kill."
Once
again, all I received was a shrug. "Good, good," he
said. "We will leave tomorrow, before dawn, yes? Simply
meet here, I will be outside." And as quickly as that,
Jarrod seemed to lose all interest in the conversation. He
turned his manic grin on the bartender, who brought him a mug of
something dark and foul-smelling. He didn't even look up when I
left the bar.
That
evening, I debated whether I should even show up the next morning.
Jarrod's disinterest in money suggested that I wasn't in danger
of being robbed. Perhaps this was a sting, the government
trying to ensnare poachers in a web of trickery. In the end, I
decided that the reward was worth the risk. Nonetheless, I
resolved to remain ever alert and cautious.
*
The
next morning, Jarrod was waiting for me when I showed up, pack and
rifle slung over my shoulders. His white-toothed smile gleamed
in the twilight. His hand was outstretched, waiting.
I
grudgingly handed over the five thousand dollars that I had promised
him up front. Jarrod took the envelope and tucked it away, only
pausing briefly to look inside and verify its contents. "One
more," he said to me as he secreted the envelope away. "One
more, and then we will go!"
A
few minutes later, our third party member arrived. We could
hear him crashing through the undergrowth well before he emerged into
view. I sized him up with distaste.
The
other man, clearly another hunter, probably stood close to six and a
half feet tall, and I guessed that he weighed close to three hundred
pounds. He wore camo pants and a once-white t-shirt, stained
with unidentifiable grime and stretched tight across his stomach. A
Remington bolt-action was slung across his back, but I also noted the
M1911 semi-automatic pistol strapped to his hip. Some hunters
carried a pistol to finish off wounded targets. I preferred to
simply not miss with my shots.
Jarrod didn't seem put off by the other man's demeanor. On the contrary, he was happy to accept another envelope of payment. "Yes, yes, let us go," he cried out in return, smiling broadly. "Come. Follow. We have a long path to walk, and you do not want to be lost." He smiled even more broadly. "No, do not get lost on this path."
Turning lightly on one heel, Jarrod took off into the dense forest. Hoping that I wasn't walking into disaster, I followed, with the American bringing up the rear.
Continue with part three!
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