Chapter 21

1995

A small town in South Africa

The whole town was filled with happiness and enthusiasm. They were celebrating a festival known locally to them. The red pathway, filled with colourful lights and crackers with energetically dancing Africans it was one hell of a view. The festival was celebrated to acknowledge that year's harvest. With loud noise and music, that night couldn't have been a better time for John to accomplish his mission.

Blah blah blah...

The cluster of foreign words surrounded John as the energetic music doped his blood flow. Yet to maintain incognito, John was clear in his path. As the crowd moved hither thither John made his way into a hut. Lightly lit by candles the hut's interior was very poorly assembled. The walls were made of yellow mud and the roof was covered by palm branches and leaves. Decorated with a small wooden bed, two windows, a cheap wooden table and few negligible items, the house was the dwelling place of a poor indo-African. Ine of the window sill had a statue of Narashima, the lion-headed godly avatar of Vishnu, adorned with flowers. After a quick glance of the room, fifteen-year-old John turned his attention to the man bedridden on the wooden bed. The man was too weak to even lift his upper body. Saliva drooled out of his mouth as he shivered with an illness that should have been diagnosed and cured a long time ago. Hearing John's entry into his hut his shivering increased. John moved near the bed and sat on the edge, looking at the dying man who was growing in regret. The man's expressions surprised John. He was not shocked by John's entry at all. When all the villagers were enjoying the harvest, he lies awaiting his death. It was as though he knew that someone would come to end his misery. His suffering had been neverending since the day he did the something monstrous. John looked at his feeble condition and chuckled.

"You can't be punished in a better manner for your cruel deeds." John's young voice rang throughout the man's body. Once a very influential poacher in the black market, now merely lively, tears rolled down the man's stiff face. His eyes longed for redemption but he knew that he was already beyond saving and John was not there to save him.

"Where is it's lair?" John implored. The man rolled his eyes and slowly and weakly opened his mouth. The words that came out of his mouth we're barely audible yet John listened carefully.

"In the old mines near.....the....." The old man's words disappeared into mere air.

"-the dry river? I thought so. Most of the victims were snatched in routes near the dry river." John said and flashed at his own thinking. "But that's not what I really want. I spoke to your dealer. Ex-dealer. Told me you were a big gun back in your days. He was very sure it would have been your hunt that gave way to these kidnappings after these many years. Seems like you were the only poacher to hunt lions here. Specifically, the white ones." John's words echoed into the man's ears. Tears plunged from his eyes as saliva drooled out of his mouth. As John looked into his eyes the man's mind replayed his young life.

"Boss, the male is dead. What should I do with the mother?" Damo the slave's voice rang from the past of his mind as the bedridden man once known by the name Shloch the poacher.

"Kill it. We don't want it seeking revenge. Finish it. We only need the cub." Shloch had said and kicked the dead male white lion lying on the ground.

"Clear shot. But there is no exit wound." Shloch analysed the dead body. The female white lion that was restrained to the ground had growled at Shloch.

"It's furious. I will finish it off. You go get the cub!!." Damo had run into the thick trees with his rifle. Shloch glanced at the growling lion and chuckled. But now thinking about what he had done years ago he endured his heavy guilt and condemnation. As the memories came back into his mind, Shloch remembered what he had done and the consequence the whole town was facing due to his ill desires.

He unsheathed a knife, cut the lioness and blood from the wound splashed at his bare face. Suddenly at that moment, his poaching instincts took over him. He madly went into a blood spree. He randomly cut her with a mad look. The lioness tied down defencelessly growled and moaned until its eyes closed towards death. Shloch covered in wet, cold blood admired his work madly as the surrounding atmosphere calmed down. Amidst the silence, a low wail could be heard. He slowly turned his head towards the noise and saw a white lion cub wailing, partially hidden inside a dry bush. A wide, scary smile stretched from one of his ears to another.

"There you are! Poor Damo. He will be searching for all over the place without knowing that you were right here." Shloch whispered with an insane smile and gestured it towards him. The cub looked at him still wailing. It gathered up its courage and anger and roared weakly. With a quick pace, it pounced on Shloch and bite a huge part of his left shoulder. In reflex and pain, Shloch swung his knife at the cub and gave a long cut on its right eyes. It was only a cub and the pain was too much for it to bare. Sacred of death, the cub disappeared into the woods leaving Shloch in his agony. It was the last time Shloch had ever seen it as a cub.

As time passed and years went by, Shloch stopped poaching and retired into the hands of his children. That's when he found out about the kidnappings that had been taking place near the town he last had his white lion hunt. The evidence in the sites were clear proof that it was all animal targets. Surprisingly the beast didn't seem to leave any blood trails. With his children, he wanted to do one last hunt before he could fall weak. And so he and his three sons went on a search for the once-wounded cub that was terrorising the peaceful town. Unfortunately for him, the result of his expedition was disastrous. Tears continued to surge as the tragedy replayed in his mind. Slowly he opened his mouth to speak out to John.

"Don't go after it. Only death and curse awaits those who seek the beast. It is not any ordinary white lion, it-" John cut out Shloch and glared at him.

"Cut it, man. You think I have no idea of what I am facing. But I have to do it....." John murmured.