City of Screams Read Free Page B

dealt with. Leopards didn’t have weapons, and they weren’t likely to be sheltered by the locals. It also explained the ferocity of the attack, the firefight, and the blood. But could it be that easy?
    Jordan straightened with a shake of his head. “We don’t know that the cats killed them. They might have come to scavenge afterward. Maybe that’s why we didn’t find any bodies. They were dragged to wherever this pride of leopards—”
    â€œ Leap of leopards,” McKay corrected, ever the stickler for details. “Lions come in prides.”
    Atherton hunched in on himself. “If the cats have taken the bodies, they are close.” He pointed his cast toward the ruins. “This place is riddled with hiding places. And also land mines from the many decades of war up here. You have to be careful where you step among those ruins.”
    â€œGreat,” McKay grumbled, “like we don’t have enough problems with man-eating leopards. We get land mines, too.”
    Jordan had maps of the area with the land mines marked on them, but he didn’t look forward to hunting through that maze to recover the bodies—especially in the dark—but he knew that might become necessary. Any clues to who killed the archaeologists might still lie with those mauled corpses. It couldn’t have been leopards, he realized. Leopards didn’t whisper in ancient languages. So the words must have come either from a survivor or a murderer. They had to go now. The longer they waited, the less likely the survivor would still be alive, or the murderer would be brought to justice.
    â€œHow big are these cats?” Jordan asked.
    Azar shrugged. “Big. I’ve heard of males as big as eighty kilos.”
    Jordan did the math. “That’s about a hundred seventy-five pounds.”
    Scary, but not too bad.
    McKay chuffed his disagreement. “Then you’d better look at this.”
    He flicked to another picture and showed a paw print with a shiny quarter next to it, using the coin to reveal the perspective of its size.
    Jordan felt a deep-seated cold fear, a primal reaction to when his ancestors huddled in caves against what hunted the night. The paw print looked to be eight inches wide, the size of a small dinner plate.
    â€œI found another line of tracks, too.” McKay showed them on his camera.
    He ended on another paw print, again photographed with a quarter, only this one was smaller—not by much, but clearly different.
    â€œSo there are at least two cats hunting here,” Jordan said.
    â€œAnd both a lot larger than a hundred and seventy-five pounds,” McKay added. “I’d estimate twice that, maybe more. The size of African lions.”
    Jordan stared over at the misty ruins, remembering the tale of two African lions, nicknamed The Ghost and The Darkness, who terrorized Kenya for almost a year during the turn of the century. The two lions were said to have killed over a hundred people, often pulling them out of their tents in the middle of the night.
    â€œWe’re going to need more firepower,” McKay said, as if reading Jordan’s mind.
    Unfortunately, his team had traveled here light, one weapon each. They had expected to come and go before dark. Plus, with the Ranger unit standing nearby, it had seemed like plenty of protection.
    That is, until now.
    A crackle from the radio caused both Jordan and McKay to wince and grab for their earpieces. It was Cooper.
    â€œI’ve got movement over here,” Cooper radioed in. “Inside the village. Spotted a flicker through one of the windows.”
    â€œStay put,” Jordan ordered. “We’ll join you. And be on the lookout for leopards. We may not be alone out here.”
    â€œGot it.” Cooper’s voice sounded more annoyed than frightened. But he hadn’t seen the tracks.
    After Cooper passed on his location, Jordan led the others to the far side of the