Phantom Warriors: Saber-tooth

Chapter One

“A saber-toothed tiger has been spotted at the famous La Brea Tar Pits,” the television announcer said, his voice filled with excitement and more than a little skepticism.

Katy Manfred did a double take on the screen as the news station moved its feed from the studio to a live shot from a hovering helicopter over downtown Los Angeles. She saw a flash of brownish red move across the screen, but it was too fast to catch what it was before it disappeared beneath the thick tree-line.

It had to be some kind of joke. A saber-toothed tiger? Puleaseee. Those cats lived in the Cenozoic period before the Holocene and had been extinct for over eleven thousand years. Katy snickered. Someone should probably inform the press.

Katy shook her head, sending strawberry blonde hair into her face. She pulled the hair tie off her wrist and swept her shoulder-length bob into a quick, short ponytail. She didn’t bother checking in the mirror to see if it was straight. Katy didn’t care.

The camera filming the famous tar pits, where several prehistoric bones had been recovered, swung wildly in an attempt to catch the fleeing animal. So far, other than the flash of movement, which could’ve been a fat squirrel, all they’d managed to film were trees and people standing on the sidewalks waving and pointing at the camera. She laughed. Everyone in L.A. wanted their fifteen minutes of fame. This had to be a publicity stunt. She tried to recall the upcoming filming schedules she’d read about in the popular movie industry rag, but nothing came to mind. Katy turned away from the television, muting the sound just as the phone rang.

“Manfred here.” She paused to listen. “Yes, I saw the news.”

“I want you to try to get to the La Brea Tar Pits before animal control arrives,” Roger Sylvan said.

“They’re already there. I spotted their truck when the cameras swung around to try to capture the cat on film.”

“Then I suggest you hurry. You need to catch the animal before they do.”

“Are you sure you want me to do that, sir? Animal control doesn’t like the private sector stepping on their toes. We took a lot of heat the last time we did that. Besides, it’s not like it’s a real saber-tooth tiger,” Katy said.

Silence filled the line.

“Roger?” she asked to see if he was still there.

He inhaled, then exhaled slowly. “I don’t pay you to question my orders, Manfred. Get down there now. If there’s even a remote chance this thing is real, I want Bio Tech to possess it. Do whatever it takes.”

The muscles in her neck tensed as Katy said, “Okay, you’re the boss.”

“And don’t you forget it.” There was a click and the line went dead.

Katy hung up the phone, then strode across the living room of her Santa Monica bungalow. The place wasn’t much, but it was all she had left of her parents, who’d perished in a boat fire several years ago. She swallowed the loneliness and grief down like a bitter pill. At least her parents weren’t around to see how far she’d fallen.

She glanced at the television once more. The cameraman was still trying to catch the feline on film. She hit the power button and watched the screen dim. Going to La Brea Tar Pits was a total waste of time. Katy knew it and so did her boss, Roger Sylvan. He’d been sending her out on wild goose chases for the past few months. Insulting her with low-level apprehension jobs that anyone could do. She’d known better than to date the boss. He’d asked her out during one of her low periods and like a fool she’d accepted. Roger had been trying to get her to quit ever since. Of course, he’d refused to fire her outright. Afraid she’d hit him with a sexual harassment suit.

When his ploy first became apparent, Katy had been too stubborn to concede. Lately, she’d come to realize her resistance had less to do with the principle of the matter and more to do with the fact that she had nowhere else to go. Katy punched in a code on her wall to her gun safe. The hatch popped open a second later. She retrieved her pistol. Strapping on the weapon, she headed for the front door.

Katy grabbed a canvas bag that remained packed at all times. She unzipped it to ensure she had extra ammo and a change of clothes. The dart guns and snares were already in her truck, along with a tarp covering and a reinforced net. The zoo hadn’t reported any big cats missing, but there were always private owners. It was probably somebody’s scared lion. The rich and their pets. She shook her head in disgust.

Didn’t they know these types of animals could never be tamed? How many times had she had to put down a cornered half-crazed animal just to keep it from hurting nearby humans? Too damn many. Renewed anger surged through her. These people had no business keeping predators in the middle of a city the size of Los Angeles. Once Katy caught this cat, she’d tell them so. It was her job to clean up other people’s messes. Someone was going to get their ass kicked if she had to shoot a cat today.

Katy shoved the truck in reverse and backed out of her driveway. She heard brakes screech and the blast of a horn. She didn’t care. She needed to get to La Brea Tar Pits and fast. The ride there was slow going at best, thanks to L.A.’s typical traffic flow of slow, slowest and crawl. Katy considered taking to the sidewalks, but decided against it. The cat would probably hunker down somewhere in the brush until nightfall, and then make its escape. Hell, that’s what she would do in its place.

Forty minutes later, she pulled into the heavily shaded parking area at La Brea Tar Pits as several police cars exited. The crowd seemed to have dissipated somewhat, leaving only a few hardcore lookie-loos around. Katy shut the door of her truck, then strapped on the holster for her dart gun, slipping the weapon into place. She moved to her tailgate to ensure the cage and tarp were in order before approaching the people.

“Where’s animal control?” she asked no one in particular.

A man stepped forward. “They left, since they couldn’t find any trace of the animal. One had the nerve to suggest we were making the whole thing up. Assholes.”

Grumbles echoed throughout the crowd.

“Did any of you actually see the cat?” Katy asked.

More murmurs filled the air. Several people looked at each other, before glancing at the ground.

Terrific…no one had actually seen the animal. They were just repeating what the others had said. Katy debated whether to get back into her truck and go home. If animal control hadn’t been able to locate the cat, then she didn’t think she’d have much better luck. Sure, she was a good tracker--great even, but it was next to impossible to track animals in a concrete jungle. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to ask if anyone had seen anything before she left.
“Does anyone know where the cat went?” Katy searched the faces around her, but most refused to make eye contact.

“You aren’t going to kill it, are you?” someone called out.

The last thing Katy wanted to do was destroy the animal, but sometimes she didn’t have a choice. “Not if I can avoid it,” she said noncommittally.

A little boy pushed his way through the small crowd, then signaled for her to crouch down so that he could whisper in her ear. “I saw the kitty and I know where it went.”

“Petey, get back here this instant.” A frantic mother pushed through the crowd in search of her son.

“Where is he, Petey?” Katy used the child’s name in hopes it would reassure him enough to answer.

Petey looked back at his mom, then turned to face Katy. He reached out and grabbed her hand, tugging her away from the other people. “I don’t want anyone else to hear. The kitty told me to keep it a secret.”

Katy frowned. “The kitty told you not to say anything?”

The little mop-topped boy nodded his head, sending brown curls cascading into his face. “Mommy doesn’t believe me, but you do, don’t you?” he asked, his lower lip starting to tremble.

Katy reached out, cupping his cheek and smiled. As a child, she’d been convinced she could talk to the animals. She still remembered the pain and humiliation the kids in school inflicted with their “crazy Katy” taunts. “Of course I believe you. Now show me where he is.” She waved to reassure the boy’s mother.

Petey beamed, then tugged her down a path that wound around some of the outbuildings associated with the facility. “He’s over there under those bushes.” He pointed to an area off the path that dipped slightly into a small ditch.

She couldn’t immediately see anything, but that didn’t mean the cat wasn’t there. “Thank you, Petey. You’ve been very helpful.” Katy glanced over her shoulder and saw the child’s mother waiting, exasperation and concern clearly etched on her face. She waved and motioned for her son, while her gaze nervously scanned the bushes. Katy turned back to Petey. “You’d better get going. Your mom’s worried about you.”

He smiled, showing a missing front tooth. “She worries about everything,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“That’s her job. Now scoot.” Katy rumpled his hair and then sent him on his way. She needed Petey and everyone else to stay clear of the area. Predators were unpredictable, especially when cornered. She didn’t want to take the chance of an innocent bystander getting hurt, especially a child, and she damn well didn’t want to have to put the animal down in front of an audience.

She inched closer, dart gun in hand, her eyes searching the shadows for movement. A warm breeze filtered through her hair, tearing a few strawberry blonde wisps out of her ponytail. She reached up, tucking the errant strands behind her ear. Traffic sounds faded, giving way to the rustling of leaves in the trees. Even the birds had suddenly gone quiet. Katy knew something hunted her. She crouched lower and blinked. Intelligent green eyes stared unflinchingly back at her.

No way in hell, her mind said, refusing to acknowledge what she saw. Even as the thought fluttered through her head, Katy knew there was no mistake. It was a saber-toothed tiger, or cat, as the scientific community more accurately labeled them, since the animals were only distantly related to tigers and close cousins to the lion.

Lying under a branch of the farthest bush, panting in the warm Southern California heat, the cat yawned, displaying his seven-inch serrated teeth. Despite the imminent danger, she took a step closer to get a better look. The cat didn’t move. It seemed to be studying her as closely as she studied it. Katy knew it was impossible, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of intelligent awareness that the animal conveyed.

What was she thinking? The cat was smart, but it didn’t have awareness beyond the primal. She was a meal to the animal and nothing more. Displacing her emotions and putting them on the cat was something that had never occurred before. At least not since she was a kid. Katy stared at the cat, taking care not to look it directly in the eyes. The last thing she needed was for it to interpret her intentions as a challenge for dominance.

She took in the cat’s appearance as it lounged on its side, watching her. Tufts of white hair surrounded his massive sixteen-inch head and accented his muscular legs and belly much like the tigers of modern day. Yet, the stripes on his body were different, less pronounced. Almost as if they were a genetic afterthought. Shorter than a lion, but still huge up close, the cat easily weighed in at a thousand pounds of solid muscle, doubling the King of the Jungle’s body mass and then some. His fangs, which looked more like tusks, hung down like a walrus over his mouth. The lethal weapons could easily gut the largest land-based mammal on the planet.

He truly was the find of the century. At least she thought it was a he. Katy glanced at the juncture between his sinewy legs and her eyes bulged. Yep, definitely a he. This big cat was going to make some female tiger or lion, depending on his genetics, very happy indeed. Katy radioed for backup, then raised the dart gun and aimed at the animal’s flank.

Don’t do it!

The command slammed into her mind loud enough that she actually reached for the side of her head to clasp her ears, almost dropping her gun. Who’d said that? She carefully glanced around, keeping one eye trained on the cat at all times. Tigers and other big cats had a reputation for jumping their prey from behind. Logic told her that the saber-tooth might react the same way. She didn’t want to give it any kind of opening, since all the scientific research done on this animal to date was based on theory, not fact.

She gave one final glance over her shoulder. The path behind her was clear of people. Weird. She could’ve sworn that someone shouted.

Katy raised the gun again.

Please don’t. The voice said, but this time it came as a request, not a command.

She frowned, ignoring her quivering fingers. Didn’t they say that the first sign of schizophrenia was hearing voices? Petey’s words came rushing back to her. He’d said the cat spoke to him. Was that what was happening now?

“Are you talking to me?” she asked aloud, feeling more than a little ridiculous.

The cat simply stared at her in that bored kitty kind of way.

“Of course you’re not.” She shook her head at her own foolishness. Katy aimed the dart gun and fired. A bellow rang out in her head before quickly tapering as the cat drifted off to sleep.