The rain rolled in and over the buildings of the Pafuri Border Gate to the Kruger national reserve. It pounded on the tin roof of the ranger station. Ian was on his cot looking at what Tinder had on offer in Cape town. He saw lights outside. Then a knock at the door. Andre Zietsman and Sandy Brooks stepped in from the rain. Andre had on a Crocodile Dundee hat and a wet windbreaker. Sandy was in jeans. Her hair was long, black and wet. She had on a floppy red University of South Carolina hoodie with a Gamecock logo on the front.

“Andre, good to see you again,” said Ian. He turned to Sandy, “Welcome to the bush, long way from California. Sorry we’re all out of sun today. He motioned to his workstation. I started early tonight. The drone should be near the Mozambique border by now.”

They stood around Ian’s workstation tracking the progress of the drone. It cleared the clouds along the Limpopo river. Water blew off the sensors.

“Damn weather, poachers love it,” said Ian. He ran out the far leg of his search pattern. “Those smaller bright dots standing in herd patterns are most likely zebras or impalas. See that? Wow, lucky us. A hot spot down there at the Darfo crossing.”

“Ahh,” said Andre, “We got something.”

Ian moved the drone closer and circled. “It’s shallow there. You can cross there. It’s hot, like an engine block. A vehicle for sure.”

“Poachers. Who else would be out there at night in the rain?”, said Sandy.

“Bad guys,” said Andre.”

Ian stretched out his arms and cracked his knucles. I’ll get the quad ready.”

Andre dug two rain ponchos from the locker. He handed one to Sandy. “One size fits all.” He pulled an AK off the rack. “You know how to shoot?”

She hefted the gun. She pulled back the bolt. “Dad gave me my first rifle for my thirteenth birthday. He and I would go to the dump at night and shoot rats.”

“I’d like to meet your dad,” said Andre. “You won’t have to shoot anybody. Leave it on automatic. If something with fangs in a fur suit comes at you don’t aim, point and spray.”

*****

Armando was at the wheel of the Toyota Hilux, next to him the dog, Simba, the saluki. The Limpopo was shallow. more sandbar than river. The Toyota was up to its rims. He turned off the driving lights as they climbed the riverbank into Kruger park. Simba’s head was far out the window. Palo and Luis were in the back chugging a quart of nipa sugarcane rum.

“We gonna make soooo much money tonight,” said Palo.

“Get the drone ready,” said Armando.

Palo tossed the drone up and out of the back of the Hilux. It vanished into the dark. Luis scanned the infrared camera feed from the back seat.

“What you see out there?” said Armando

“Usual shit, some antelope, zebras maybe. Nothing big.”

A column of rain crossed the path and passed.

Through the bush country they rolled. The moon rose above the hills ahead. “See anything Palo?” said Armando.

“Not a damn thing. Jesus these flies are eating me alive.”

“Where are the beasts?” said Armando.

“Maybe got a target,” said Palo, “A big signature one kilometer or so, turn left.”

The Hilux left the road and crushed its way through the bush.

“I see two,” said Palo. “Big ones. Some zebras or antelopes too.”

The saluki whined and scratched at the door. Armando scratched her head, “Simba says we got rhino.”

“Two hundred meters, straight ahead,” said Palo. “Let’s get out.”

Armando unzipped a bolt action .458 Winchester Magnum from its case. He loaded it from a box of shells from the console. Palo put on a vest with a rack of darts in pouches across his chest. He prepped his dart gun. Luis hit the ground with his AK47 over his shoulder, the drone control in his hand. Simba dived out the window, she stood head high in the air whining.

“We still ok?” asked Armando.

“They’ve separated. One is moving to the north. The other’s coming our way. We’ll take him.”

“What about the smaller hits?”

“They wandering around.”

“Ok let’s get him.”

Closer now. The sound of animals feeding up ahead. “There he is,” said Armando. “He’s a big one.”

“Horn, does he have his horn?” said Palo.

Armando sighted the Winchester, “Can’t tell, he’s moving away. I’m gonna shoot him.”

“You can’t get a clean head shot. He’ll run off. I’ll dart him.” said Palo.

“Ok, get closer.”

The men worked their way through the tall grass.

“Watch out,” said Armando. “You get that yellow goop on you and you gonna ride in the back.”

“Jackal puke,” said Luis, “Nothing stinks like Jackal puke.”

The dart gun popped three times.

“I got him,” said Palo. “Three darts up his ass.”

The rhino jumped at the impact and ran. He tore through the bush.

“Palo, go get the truck. We’ll follow this guy until he falls down.”

The rhino ran on for close to a kilometer, slowed and faded into the ground. Palo arrived in the truck. He took a battery chainsaw from the back. The three men approached the huge animal with caution.

“Is he out?”

“Yeah, three darts is a fat dose. He got nothing going.”

“He’s still breathing. I’m gonna shoot him in the head anyway,” said Armando.

“We don’t need to risk gunshots,” said Palo. “Rangers have microphones out here. Let’s get the goods and go.”

Luis tried the chain saw, “Battery’s dead. Gotta another in the truck.”

Armando and Palo squatted in the low grass. The rhino was breathing heavy and slow.

Across the field came the sounds of high pitched chirps and hoots.”

“Jackals,” said Armando. “My god they’re here already. They smell an easy meal.”

“Don’t sound like jackal to me,” said Palo.

“Nothing to worry about. We’ll get our horn and get the hell out of here. They’ll go for the rhino.”

“Look at that horn. Nice. Where’s Luis with the saw?”

From the truck. Luis screamed and went silent.

“What the fuck?”, Palo ran for the Hilux.

Armano stood holding his rifle watching Palo. From out of the bush came a dark figure the size of a feral hog. Armano fired at the body mass. The animal went down. Armando reloaded. The bolt action jammed. Another animal came. Armando beheld 170 lbs. of spotted hyena coming at him at 40 miles per hour. The animal leapt and knocked Armando down with his front paws. Armando raised the gun against the open jaws. The hyena bit the stock of the rifle in half. Armando rolled over. He held his hands up to block the head coming down on him. The hyena came down on his forearm. He heard his bones crack. His torn skin ran red with arterial blood. Then his neck. Armando’s last moment was filled with rasping hot breath and the stink of wet hyena fur. The beast tore him apart.

Palo stopped at the sound of Armando’s screams. He saw Armando fall. He looked for Luis. There, just behind the Hilux door, Simba the saluki lay dead, its head crushed. Palo heard crunching noises. He backed off and peered around the back of the truck. A hyena was gnawing the meat off of Luis’ thighs. The beast looked up with a dripping mouth full of Luis. It made a deep, vicious grunt and resumed feeding. Palo put five AK rounds in the animal’s head.

Palo ran back to Armando. His body was gone. He ran back to the truck. Except for his clothes, Luis was unrecognizable as a human. Palo backed up against the Hilux. He felt for the door handle All around he heard the hoots of the hyenas. To his left, to his right, behind him. He passed his lantern over the edge of the clearing. Seven sets of glowing eyes reflected back from the bush. They moved left and right in unison to their hoots. A young one came out of the crowd. He was fast. Palo slipped in the mud. He tried to bring the AK to bear but the cub was too fast. Palo’s gun fired wide. The hyena came on. Palo stood only to be knocked down. He felt jaws on his leg below the knee. Then the sound of bone snapping and the searing pain of the bite. He bashed the hyena in the head with the stock of the gun. He hit home, the beast let out a yelp. Then a bullet from the AK tore through the hyena’s scalp tearing off an ear and a section of flesh. The beast ran off. Palo arteries flowed. He fell back into the grass. Another hyena was on him now, this time his arm. He gasped for air, he felt his strength fading, his vision dimmed. The howling of the wounded hyena sounded dim and far away.

*****

The quad’s fat tires threw up a wake of mud. Ian was at the wheel. Andre was riding shotgun. He had on night-vision goggles and an AK-47 against his shoulder. They topped a small hill. The moon cleared a set of running clouds. Andre stood and surveyed the field before them. “Over there, a Toyota Hilux over there.”

“You see any movement?”

“No, it’s still. I don’t see anyone. Something’s wrong. Nobody hangs around a kill this long.”

Ian pulled his AK from behind the seat and checked the load. “Let’s find out.”

They rolled down the hill and stopped at the edge of the clearing. Ian took the lead. Andre two steps behind, Sandy was to the left. They stood apart, weapons in hand.

“Jackal stink,” said Sandy. “Something’s tagging.”

Ian laughed, “You have jacals in California?”

“A few,” said Sandy, “In my lab. Hyenas too.”

“I’ll take point. Cover me,” said Ian.

The three approached. Ahead a massive hulk. “Look at that,” said Andre, “must be a thousand kilos.”

Sandy moved closer, “Darts”. The rhino moved its legs. Sandy put her hand on the rough, wet hide. “I got them. Maybe we can get some prints.”

Ian stopped. “Holy shit.”

“What is it?”, asked Andre.

“Dead hyena, a busted Winchester and a hand,” said Ian. There’s some arm, I see a watch and part of a shirt. Bone looks bit right through. Looks like something drug the body off.”

The Sandy walked to the Hilux. “Another dead guy, and a dog. Looks like a Saluki, head bit off at the neck. Shit! I can’t look at this. That guy’s got no face.”

Andre took inventory, “Chainsaw, high power rifle, drone controller, dart gun. Another hyena, his head all shot up.”

Ian picked up the chainsaw and stood over the dead hyena. “We’ll take the heads, rabies most likely.”

“Why didn’t they go for the rhino? It’s just lying there.” asked Ian.

“Hyenas are smart as chimps,” said Sandy. “Maybe the guns scared them off. That rhino’s still beathing. Legs moving. He’ll be ok.”

The sound of moaning came from nearby. “Over here.” said Ian.

They stood over the dying Palo.

“His leg’s gone. Arm chewed up. He’s bleeding out fast,” said Ian.

“Where the leg?”, asked Liam.

The man lifted his hand. It was a chewed mass of crushed bone and bloody meat. His dying words were slurred, “Bouda, bouda.”

“What’s he saying?” asked Sandy.

“Bouda.”

The man cried out, “Bouda,” his arm fell to his side.

“Andre poked Ian with his elbow. “He’s dead Jim.”

“What’s that bouda stuff all about?” said Sandy.

“Eritrea lore,” said Andre, “The bouda is a mythical shapeshifter. Like a werewolf. People take on the form of the hyena and stalk human prey. They enter huts and drag off babies.”

Ian started the chain saw. He cut the heads off the hyenas and tossed them in the back of the quad. From the woods came the sound of restless beasts. Hooting and chirping. Andre put on the goggles. He scanned the tree line. “We got hot spots all around.”

“We’ve got a full den out here,” said Sandy. “Could be as many as thirty. They’re singing. Listen, one does a chorus, the others repeat and call back. Back and forth, call and response. Then another. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Ian drove to the rise overlooking the clearing. Rain came and went. “Stop.” said Sandy. “Something’s going on back there.”

Sandy, Ian and Andre stood in the drizzle. Moonlight illuminated the scene. Down below the hyenas emerged from the bush. The hyenas began to play. Round and round, nose to tail around and around the rhino they ran. They made no sound.

“What the hell is going on down there?” said Andre.

“They’re dancing,” said Sandy.”

“Look,” said Ian, “that big one, on top of the rhino. It’s got white fur.”

The hyenas stopped. They all faced the leader on high. They stood on their hind legs and cried out in unison.

“Ritual,” said Sandy. “Mystic. It’s a celebration.”

“I’ve seen them run in packs, I’ve seen them cooperate in the kill, but never anything like this,” said Ian.

Sandy opened the back gate. “It’s not rabies. I’m taking some ears back to the lab.”

Bloody ears in a zip lock in her pocket, Sandy twisted in her seat. Ian started the quad.