“They are the Ka,” Kiani said, “they are…” she asked the leader something, getting only a nodded answer, “…they are cousins to the Ru’kan hunters we met earlier.”

  “What?” CJ asked.

  “I’ve heard…of the Ka before,” Zeus said, wincing as the one holding him squeezed harder. “They were…believed to be the souls of the ancient Egyptians—the life-force within. It’s how they separated themselves with the dead. The dead had no souls.”

  Logan wanted to ask how he knew that but he honestly didn’t care. The legend of the Egyptian Ka was something he’d also heard of but never looked into. These…things…thought themselves to be spirits—maybe even ghosts. And while they were a long way from Egypt, this was still Africa. Influences of every major culture the continent had to offer could be found all over.

  “Can you explain?” he asked the largest of the Ka.

  Kiani translated and got a grunt.

  He felt the man’s talons shift away from his neck but the hand squeezed and lifted him high off the ground. Logan held on and gripped the huge Ka’s wrist. He had to have been pushing seven feet tall at minimum and built like a brick wall.

  Logan’s feet dangled a few inches off the ground as the Ka held him aloft with one hand. The tribesman could have easily squeezed and ended Logan then and there, but for whatever reason, he hadn’t. Maybe there was a chance they’d get out of this alive.

  As the Ka spoke Logan looked him over. He had bony growths beneath his eyebrows, giving him an almost caveman appearance. The build lent itself to that as well but he seriously doubted the similarities were anything more than that. Last he remembered, there weren’t any giant cavemen ever found.

  “There are few Ka left,” Kiani said. “Only the strongest survive to adulthood. Those that die are sacrificed.”

  “Sacrificed?” Logan croaked, feeling the man’s hand tighten slightly. “Sacrificed to what?”

  Kiani continued to translate as the Ka breathed into Logan’s face, causing him to gag and dry heave. “Their god.”

  “Wonderful,” Ares mumbled.

  “Could you asked him to put me down?” Logan asked.

  She did and Logan was dropped like a ton of bricks. With no weapons at his disposal, Logan just lay on his back and wheezed.

  Kiani continued as the big man did. “They are cursed and doomed to live out their lives in hiding—away from the outside world.”

  “Cursed?” he asked, turning his head towards Kiani. But he already knew the answer… “They can’t turn it off, can they?”

  Kiani shook her head.

  Bollocks, Logan thought as he was once again lifted off the ground and thrown over the bigger man’s shoulder. The others were likewise manhandled, carried like a piece of luggage. He found Kiani and asked her a question he knew he’d regret.

  “I don’t suppose the Ka are vegetarians?”

  Kiani’s eyes said it all.

  They weren’t.

  16

  “How much farther?” Fitz asked, running low on ammo. He had two more magazines left but was really trying not to use them. His current mag had three rounds left which was what he called the “beginning of the end.” If he had to start changing out mags that fast, he knew they were screwed. He’d be empty before he found the others.

  “Not far, another mile at most.”

  Another mile of this shit?

  Three more of the hunters came after them shortly after the first two. Fayng dispatched the first of them easily, like before. The second took six rounds to take down. Five knocked it to the ground. The sixth to the back of the head put it down for good.

  The third hunter took a combined effort. It was locked in combat with Fayng when Fitz drew his combat knife and leapt onto its back. Surprised, the hunter could only gasp as Fitz slit its throat. As the fight went out of him, Fayng reached inside the wound and grasped the flailing man’s trachea. Blood shot everywhere as she held him down, squeezing harder and harder. Eventually, he stopped kicking. And she’d just showed him, suffocation also worked against this particular enemy.

  Fitz looked down at his blood-soaked clothes and his covered hands. He expected to see his flesh melt off like Jan’s…but it didn’t.

  Huh… Well, that’s good. Must’ve been a side effect of the Nazi’s experiments.

  He slung some of the goop from his fingers. “You’re sick, you know that?”

  Fayng turned on him not understanding the meaning.

  “It means your tactics are brutal and disgusting.”

  She thought, but nodded. “Yes, we are a brutal species. Killing is what we’re the best at. Even though my kind has evolved some, we’re still Ru’kan. We are murderous monsters by nature.”

  “Speaking of that…” Fitz said, following her. “How did your kind begin. Where did you come from?”

  “Where did all of humanity come from?” she asked back, confusing Fitz.

  “I don’t follow,” he said. “Supposedly we evolved from somewhere in Africa and…”

  She turned. “Who’s to say humanity was the only thing to begin there? Maybe there was another species to come from Mother Africa’s womb.”

  “The Ru’kan?” Fitz asked.

  She nodded. “Though we exist in much smaller numbers—a genetic defect of sorts—the Ru’kan have been around an exceedingly long time.”

  “Then why haven’t we seen you before now? If you’ve been around for thousands of years, why aren’t you known?”

  She stopped and turned to him, still looking around for more attackers. “Who’s to say you haven’t? Some of our own have left the safety of the jungle and gone to live in the outside world. Most live in peace.

  “Most?”

  She nodded. “Yes, most, but not all. Some act out and become the stuff of nightmares within the communities they live in, becoming folklore for the later generations.”

  “Like the Nachzehrer,” Fitz added, thinking back to Jan’s description of them. “They were said to have caused some of the vampire lore.”

  “It could’ve been a Ru’kan, yes. War is in our blood. We cannot back away from it. It’s the Ru’kan way. Some of us learn to control it and some don’t.”

  “What does that mean?” he asked.

  “I don’t have all the answers, even in all my years of looking for them. But something within us is evil at its core, wanting nothing better than to kill everything in sight. But as we age and become more self-aware, we learn that war isn’t everything. We appreciate what life has to offer.”

  “Sounds a lot like us normies,” Fitz mumbled, glancing around for something to shoot.

  “It is. We believe that mankind got its warring roots from the Ru’kan through interbreeding, taking with them some of our inherited traits.”

  “So, it’s your fault man is self-destructive?”

  “Not in that sense, no. Our culture believes that with every good thing, there is a bad to counteract it. If mankind is good, then the Ru’kan is—”

  “Evil?” Fitz asked. “A yin and a yang.”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t seem so bad to me,” Fitz said, stepping closer. He wanted to show her that he wasn’t afraid of her and that he trusted her.

  She likewise stepped forward, only inches from him. “You didn’t know me in my younger days.” She stepped around him but stopped and whispered into his ear. “I…was the worst of them. So were some of my children.”

  Fitz wasn’t sure what to say, so instead, he said nothing and followed along, keeping his eyes peeled for more targets. One comment did come to pass, though. It was one of relief, but he decided to keep it to himself. Thank God, she’s on my side. But then as he thought of her children, it felt like someone had just poured cold water on his head, ruining his brief moment of victory.

  “Are your kids—any of your family—still alive?”

  She didn’t answer as they slowed and pushed aside another veil of greenery. Fitz unsheathed his machete and lifted it high over his head, intent on helping. As he brought it down, his wrist was caught and the blade forcefully ripped from his hand.

  “What the—”

  “You make it too easy for them when you clear a path,” Fayng said. “We know these jungles like you would your hometown. We can easily spot when we have visitors by the unnatural disturbances created by such things.” She motioned to the machete before handing it back to Fitz. He sheathed it and continued behind her.

  A rustling sound caught his attention but strangely Fayng paid it no attention.

  “Um…” he said, looking around.

  “No need to be frightened,” she said, sniffing the air. “He’s a friend.”

  A massive form dropped from the sky and landed only feet from him, putting himself between Fitz and Fayng. The large bodied Ru’kan was enormous, easily bigger than any of the others they’d seen so far. Most looked to be of average height but built like powerlifters. This one, however, was Jan-sized—bigger even—and could have been pushing 300lbs of solid muscle.

  “Fitz,” Fayng said, stepping around the newcomer, “meet Baird.”

  Fitz looked up at the giant. “Hi…” He glanced at Fayng. “He’s not gonna eat me or anything, is he?” Fayng smiled but Baird didn’t. The man was easily six inches taller than Fitz’s six-foot height, outweighing him by over a hundred pounds—maybe more. If Baird wanted to, he could have easily reached out and crushed Fitz’s skull with one hand. He remembered how strong Fayng was and she was even smaller than Fitz was. This mammoth could rival a silverback, no problem.

  Probably has the same muscle density as one too. Fitz remembered that little tidbit when watching the Michael Creighton novel-based movie, Congo. Like most flicks that featured animals, CJ loved to pick them apart whenever she got a chance. It was the same way he and Logan would laugh at the way military personnel was portrayed by Hollywood. Badly, in most cases. She said that a mature silverback gorilla could possibly be eight-to-nine times stronger than the average man.

  “A gorilla’s muscles are denser than a human’s,” CJ explained that night, “giving them an advantage pound-for-pound in brute strength. When you lift something and start to strain, a gorilla’s body reacts and gains another gear naturally—a gear we humans don’t have genetically. A study has shown that gorillas, like chimps and other apes, have less control over smaller tedious tasks because of this inhuman strength. They literally can’t control their bodies well enough to do so, just as we overly control them, limiting our overall capabilities. Humans are also much more intricate with things and those same studies have shown that it actually prohibits our bodies from doing more. In the end, we’re just hardwired differently.”

  “Can’t have your cake and eat it too,” Fitz commented.

  “Quite so,” she replied. “Our brains and nervous systems can’t have both massive strength and soft touch. It’s just not possible with how we’re designed. We, as a species, are built for different things, just like gorillas are for what they need to survive.”

  “As long as you play nice,” Fayng replied, getting Fitz’s attention off the memory and back to the large man in front of him, “no, Baird, won’t eat you.” She turned. “As far as the hunters are concerned…”

  As soon as she mentioned the other sect, Baird growled and various parts of his body glowed a dull green, flowing through his body like an ocean wave. His released anger would be the thing of legend—Herculean even.

  Hope I’m on his side when he goes full-on ‘Hulk smash.’

  “G’day, Baird, the name’s Fi—” As Fitz stuck out his hand, the monster turned and followed after Fayng.

  “Does he speak English?” he asked, looking at Fayng.

  “No,” she said, “but he understands some. He hasn’t ventured out into the world like I did decades ago. Leaving the jungle is frowned upon now for fear of another of us being captured and…” She stopped, her voice quivering. Even after all those years, Fayng still got choked up over her husband’s death.

  Baird simply put a strong hand on his elder’s shoulder and stepped around her, leading the way. Fitz came up next to her and stopped. “You good?”

  She nodded. “Even though it’s been seventy years since Udan was murdered, it still feels like a new wound. A curse of living as long as I have.” She motioned to Baird as she and Fitz began to walk again. “Baird was our last child together. He’s taken it upon himself to watch over me like his father did before him.”

  “So, Baird is what, a hundred years old?” Fitz asked.

  “Give or take a couple of years, yes. In our world, he was very young when his father died.”

  “Why isn’t he like hunters? He’s roughly the same age from the looks of it.”

  She shrugged. “The absence of his father meant that I raised him. He was sheltered more than the other children his age. He never knew the ferocity—never learned it. I am the oldest of the Ru’kan Nua and have great influence over my people, including my son. No one argued against his upbringing for fear of insulting me.”

  “And feeling your wrath,” Fitz added. She didn’t agree or disagree but the look in her eyes said it was true. “So,” Fitz continued, “he skipped the whole ‘murder-everything-in-sight-phase’ and went straight to being more civilized?”

  “More or less. I have also taught him the ways of the outside world. I have told him of the compassion humanity has for others.”

  “Not all humans are like that,” Fitz added.

  “Like the Nazis who butchered my husband?” she asked, her eyes pulsating.

  “Yep, them,” Fitz replied. “They were the worst of a generation. Some believe they were the worst ever.”

  She only nodded her agreement. If the Ru’kan held a grudge, Fayng would definitely hold one against the Wohn Tod. They personally scarred her. They inadvertently scarred Fitz and the SDF too.

  “After understanding what I was,” she continued, “I did my best to keep Baird from ever becoming the same. All I wanted was for him to be at peace.”

  Baird mumbled something in his incoherent language, getting Fayng’s attention. She sped up and so did Fitz, not knowing what the big man had found.

  They stopped a few minutes later and all Fitz saw was a large boulder sitting atop a field of moss. He smiled. It was a very large out of place boulder... It didn’t match the surrounding terrain at all—like it was placed there on purpose.

  Baird gripped its edges and grunted, prying the large stone free. It would have taken Fitz and five other men to do what Baird just did by himself and once it was removed, Fitz saw what it was covering.

  “A tunnel?” he asked, stepping up.

  “Yes,” Fayng said, “it will be a tight fit for us all, but it will lead you to the realm of the Nsanga and of the Ka.”

  Fitz looked at her. “The Ka, who are the Ka?”

  17

  “Well, this can’t be good.”

  Logan agreed with Ares’ assessment of the situation. They’d been captured by a race of barbaric cannibals without so much as firing a single shot. It was the worst-case scenario for an advanced strike team like theirs and was quite honestly embarrassing.

  A bunch of primitive cavemen caught us with our pants down. He glanced at Kiani. Almost literally.

  He was still thinking of her unguarded mind and body, the latter entangled with him, but unlike before, he didn’t table the sidetracking thought. She obviously felt the same about him and the recent memory empowered Logan instead of distracting him. He reiterated the “want to survive”—to live.

  Carried like a man-sized bag of mulch over one’s shoulder, Logan, along with the others, were unceremoniously dumped onto the relenting ground. Groaning from the hard landing, he sat up and took in his surroundings, trying to memorize every little thing he could about the area. If they had an opportunity to escape, he’d take it upon himself to lead them out of hell.

  The Ka rested for a couple of minutes, getting water to drink and some type of dried meat to eat. Logan refused to guess what kind. He was about to ask Kiani to ask one of them if they could walk, but before he could, he was slung over the largest one’s shoulder again. His ribs protested and he had to wiggle and readjust himself a bit to even breathe properly.

  The river continued north and their captors followed it, moving swiftly in a single-file line, heading towards what could only be a dwelling of some kind. Maybe, he thought, still facing the wrong way. He noticed that they walked in ankle-deep water. Clever, no tracks. The Ka were intelligent too, apparently. They knew how to conceal themselves.

  After a few more minutes of travel, the Ka veered away from the water and entered a hidden trail, pushing aside an overgrowth of moss like a curtain. The path itself was like the ones above ground, no more than shoulder width apart, and every so often Logan would get a branch across the back of his head or shoulder as he brushed up against the narrow passageway.

  After the third such strike, Logan gave up trying to look around and just tucked his head into his kidnapper’s neck. As he did he gasped for air as the Ka leader readjusted him. Unfortunately for Logan, he’d inadvertently inhaled deeply while trying to catch his breath. If he’d eaten anything more than half a Chewy bar since they landed, he’d have puked all over his assailant’s back.

  The path opened up into another clearing and that was where Logan finally caught a glimpse into the Ka’s world…their underworld. He and his team were dropped again, resting on the floor of a cavern the size of a sports arena. Directly in front of them was what looked like a reverse step-pyramid. It was set into the ground rather than built atop it. Levels continued deeper below, and like a Mayan pyramid, it had four sides with smaller staircases that made traversing each easier.

  Within each of the four platforms were dwellings, cut right into the stone. They reminded Logan of the ones he’d read about in Arizona. Those particular cave dwellings were some of the oldest in North America and showed the ingenuity of the people living there at the time. This was very similar but on an even more massive scale. The levels were twenty feet deep, acting like a front porch to each of the tribe member’s homes. It gave the place a strange sense of community.