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Radley knelt in front of the mousy-haired girl slumped against the tree. He visually inspected her wounds and saw nothing that alarmed him too much. Then again, hardly any wounds would really alarm him. And he didn’t care much whether she lived or died. More importantly, he saw no reason to believe that she’d remain unconscious for long and that was cause for concern.
Never in a million years did he expect to nab himself a live specimen. It had never been his MO before. He’d always been perfectly happy to have the dead carcass to stuff and proudly display in his hall of grotesque wonders. But this opportunity had presented itself, and now he imagined all the things he might be able to do with such an amazing find. For the first time, he considered exposing his collection to the world, reaping the fame that would come from such a find. In the past he hadn’t considered this much, but now could see the appeal in it. Truthfully, though, he had no use for more money, and if he outed what he knew, then they’d take it all from him in the name of science or eminent domain or some other government bullshit.
Having escaped the helicopter crash with nothing but the tranq gun and his radio, he had nothing with which to constrain the girl, but Radley was nothing if not resourceful. He glanced around the tree line until he saw a vine. It wouldn’t be terribly strong, but then, the girl wasn’t exactly in fighting shape. It might be enough to hold her, or at least slow her down enough that he could tranquilize her if he had to. He really didn’t want to, though. Those things were meant for the likes of this magnificent creature, not a small girl. It could be enough to kill someone in the right circumstances.
He went to work obtaining as much of the vine as he needed, working it back and forth until it snapped away. He felt the heft of it in his hand, not impressed with the weight, but it would have to do for now. It took him almost no time to wrap the vine around the girl and tie it up on the other side of the tree.
With that taken care of, he turned his attention to the devil. Its belly expanded and retracted, slowly. Its eyelids occasionally fluttered. He’d shot it three times, which would have easily brought down a bear for at least an hour, but he couldn’t guess at the metabolism of this thing, and despite its similar size, it had a very different body shape. All of that mattered. Like an anesthesiologist, he knew that a proper amount of tranquilizer was unique to every animal. Size was only part of the equation.
He looked at his watch, noticing for the first time that the screen had been cracked in the wreck. It’d been through many an adventure with him, and he hated to see it go. Nonetheless, the hands still ticked dutifully away. His crew would be there soon enough. They’d bring heavy duty netting and ties to ensure they could subdue the devil. Moving it would be another problem entirely. He’d likely be working on this extraction for days.
Moving to the face of the devil, Radley stroked the furry cheek. It was beautiful in its own way, but not cute in the way that a normal sized otter could be. Something about blowing up the proportions made it off-putting and terrifying. He ran a finger down its long, thick whisker and stared at its wet, black nose. His eyes processed everything, but his mind couldn’t quite grasp what he had. It didn’t seem real or possible. Much in the same way that marsupials like the koala or possum seemed like some weird animatronic approximation of a real animal.
How much would he have to feed this thing to keep it alive? He dreamed of the massive enclosure he would build on his property. The idea of starting a real life menagerie of legendary and forgotten creatures suddenly seemed like the most important goal of his life. Killing them and mounting them had all been child’s play. He should have been doing this all along.
Startled, he spun just as the devil rumbled, a low growl that instantly raised the hairs along Radley’s arms. Before he could register the threat level, he dove for his tranquilizer gun, prepared to pepper the creature with another few darts if necessary. But his gun wasn’t there. He cursed under his breath and searched for cover, up or down. Soon, though, he realized that the rumbling devil hadn’t woken, but rather emitted something more like a snore. He let out a deep breath, chuckling quietly at his uncalled-for fear.
His gun, though. That really had disappeared.
He peered into the woods looking for any sign of another person, but saw nothing. As he searched, the forest itself came alive, suddenly filled with the sound of thrashing. Limbs against limbs, feet against the ground, and the swish of pant legs rubbing against one another.
Radley dropped into a defensive stance, ready to defend himself with his bare hands if he had to. His muscles instantly relaxed, however, when one of his own men pushed into the clearing. The man looked as if he meant to speak, but his entire body went rigid as his eyes drank in the unconscious creature taking up the bulk of the space.
“Magnificent, isn’t she?” Radley asked.
The man stood silent for a bit longer, his eyes running the length of the animal, then nodded and finally snapped his focus to Radley.
“Yes, sir,” the man said. “Is this what we’re extracting?”
“To start with, yes.” Radley motioned towards the water, now obscured by the trees. “Then we have to get the dead one from the lake.”
“Understood, sir. The rest of the team is on the way. I sprinted ahead to let you know we’d made it.”
“Good man.”
All the while, Radley never stopped his search. His eyes scanned the underbrush and the trees above. Someone or something had taken his gun, and he suspected they weren’t safe.
“Give me your gun,” Radley demanded.
“Yes, sir.”
Radley didn’t know the man’s name, though he’d seen him a number of times. It had been a long while since Radley concerned himself with new hires. He had people for that, and trusted his lawyers and the considerable compensation to keep them quiet. It had thus far worked pretty well, but he did worry that if he expanded to live specimens, the amount he offered would have to go up.
Checking the safety, the man offered Radley his pistol grip first, which Radley took. He didn’t have an immediate target, but if trouble came, Radley would take care of himself first. He’d never had much use for worrying about the safety of others—unless it also directly meant the safety of himself.
“Is something wrong, sir?” the man asked.
“I don’t know,” Radley replied. “Just keep your eyes peeled.”
The man nodded.
Radley circled the clearing, waiting. Someone had taken his gun and he expected he’d find the culprit soon enough.
