Lions Blood
Logan couldn’t see the lion, but it could see him. He knew the beast was hiding somewhere is the grass. Hunkered close to the ground, the lion watched him with bright eyes. Logan turned quickly from left to right, white knuckling the feeble stick he had sharpened into a spear. He squinted toward the flowing grass, trying to spot any sign of danger. The lion had been tracking him since the crash three days ago.
Three days
Three days without food, without sleep, endlessly marching through the African plains.
Three days of fear.
The lion recognized that its prey had grown weak. The sun had burned Logan’s skin and dried his tongue. His clothes hung tattered and torn. The leather belt around his waist, the same belt his father had used on him as a child, was the only piece of clothing still completely intact. His father’s bowie knife hung from the belt, slowly wearing a soft spot into the leather.
Logan didn’t cry when he found his father’s body, not because he wasn’t sad, but he knew it wouldn’t help. He had to worry about survival, focus on the current problems, that was what his father taught him to do. Ever since his mother left, his father was always trying to make him better, stronger, and “more like a man.”Logans childhood had made him tough, but Africa was tougher.
The insects alone were enough to drive him insane, constantly buzzing and biting. The Sun beating down on him during the day and the wind freezing him at night. Every quarter mile there was something that wanted to kill him. He went days with barely any water. But the worst part, the part that drove him foreword, was the constant fear of the lion. Knowing that he was being hunted, that there was something out there that was actively trying to kill him, kept him from sleeping or resting for more than a few moments. He was constantly on the move. Trying to keep himself alive.
The remains of his shirt danced in the wind as Logans wild eyes continued to search for the predator. The lion, 600 pounds of muscle, claws, and teeth, sat perfectly still, completely invisible to Logans untrained eyes. Logan turned his eyes a little too far to the left and in a fraction of a second, the beast was moving. Like a stream of water, the lion slid foreword through grass and over rocks, quickly moving within striking range. The snap of a twig alerted Logan, now he saw the lion. The moment his eyes locked onto the crouching figure; the lion broke out into a full sprint. Logan had maybe a second to make his move. He knew he was going to die, but he was still going to fight. Like his father had always told him:
“If you have the choice between doing something and doing nothing, always do something.”
The spear shot forward as Logan lunged. He was only able to move a quarter of a step before the weight of the lion hit him. 600 pounds lifted him off his feet and into the air. Logan and the lion careened backward. He felt long claws of the beast tear across his back and dig into his shoulder. Man and beast landed in the dirt, Logan first, then the lion. He thought surely the animal’s teeth would close around his throat at any moment, but they never came. He managed to roll away before the lion could cut him anymore. His spear was no longer in his hand, he felt vulnerable without it. Standing up, Logan turned to face the beast again. Blood poured down his back from the cuts the animal had given him. The lion let out a savage roar, but did not rise from the dirt. Logan’s makeshift spear was embedded in its chest, blood pooled out of the wound and soaked into the sand.
Logan stumbled backward and fell, even though it was wounded, he still feared the lion. But now, finally able to look the lion in the eye, Logans fear was joined by unexpected admiration. He felt that the beauty of the perfectly designed hunter ought to be appreciated. Even as it lay dying in the sand. The Lion’s blood was pooling thicker now. The magnificent hunter was growing weak, unable to raise its head from the ground. Logan crawled forward, removed his father’s knife from its sheath and, using his uninjured arm, slid it into the Lions heart. Blood ran over his hand as the life faded from the eyes of the hunter. Logan sat back and cleaned his knife on his jeans the way his father taught him.
Logan sat and stared at the beast for a while. Unsure of what to do next. He felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and at the same time, he suddenly felt overwhelmingly lost. More than he already had. Africa suddenly seemed to grow much larger and the wilderness much wilder. For three days his only goal had been to avoid the lion, he moved in whichever direction he felt would put the most distance between them. Now that the lion was dead, he had nothing to orient himself. Any direction could be the right one. Blood continued to pour out of his back and shoulder as he surveyed the landscape. He did not know how bad the wound in his shoulder was. Perhaps he would die here, beside the King of the Jungle. It seemed to him to be a decent end. But no, he wasn’t afraid of death, but he refused to simply roll over and die. Logan pulled himself to his feet and tried to plan his next move.
Out of the corner of his eyes logan saw a figure approaching from behind the lion. He looked up and saw a dark-skinned boy wearing a bright red robe and handmade jewelry. The boy was holding a spear in his left hand somewhat like the one that Logan had used to kill the lion, and he was staring directly at Logan. Logan hoped the boy was friendly. Logan was much larger than the boy, but the boy looked very strong and Logan doubted he would be able to fight him off with a wounded shoulder and no spear. The boy gestured to the dead lion and then to Logan and began calling out excitedly. Logan could not understand the boy’s speech. He nodded at the boy because it felt like an appropriate thing to do. The young native grew even more excited and rushed over to Logan. Realizing he was wounded, the boy cut away the remains of logans shirt from the wound and bandaged it with strips of cloth that he cut from his own red robe. Logan thanked the boy and the boy didn’t understand him. Logan wanted to lay down. Days of walking and his recent blood loss made him very tired, but the boy would not let him rest. He seemed to want Logan to follow him. When Logan tried to sit down the boy would pull him back to his feet and drag him foreword a few steps. Eventually Logan gave up and began to follow. As they were walking away, Logan turned back to the lifeless form left lying in the dirt. Dark crimson now covering the entire area, his spear standing straight up like a flagpole from the lion’s chest. He felt tears form behind his eyes as he turned his back on the scene
Logan was amazed to find himself in village after following the boy for only a few miles. How could he have been so close to civilization without realizing it? Either way he was relieved to see other people. As soon as they reached the village, the boy ran up ahead and began chattering loudly a group of men. The men were all dressed the same as the boy, except that the man each wore a necklace of leather with what looked like some sort of bone hanging from it. They did not look pleased to see the boy at first, but after the boy began talking, their expressions changed from irritation to surprise and the glanced over at Logan. While all this was happening one of the young women in the village had come over and begun cleaning Logans wound. She was beautiful and Logan suddenly felt very self-conscious about the state of his clothes. The boy and the group of men began jogging out of the village in the direction of the lion. One of the men broke off from the rest of the group and headed down a gravel road to the north. Children had begun gathering around Logan now. They laughed and pointed but seemed too shy to come close. The woman must have thought his wounds sufficiently clean because she wrapped his shoulder once more in cloth and headed into a nearby hut. Logan watched her go. His shoulder still ached but felt significantly better. The group of giggling children were gaining confidence and slowly coming closer. Logan smiled at them and they backed away, continuously trying to hide behind each other. Another woman came walking toward him, much older and less beautiful than the first. In her arms the woman carried a basket of food. Logan ate gratefully. When the food was gone, he lay down in the dirt and fell asleep. Not caring about the children or anyone else who was watching him. For the first time in days, Logan was able to let his guard down.
He awoke to the sound of an engine. He was inside one of the huts and wearing a robe like the one he had seen the men of the village wearing, someone must have moved him in his sleep. The softness of the light coming through the doorway suggested it was early morning. He sat up and his shoulder ached in protest. Something was hanging from a leather cord around his neck; a lion tooth. Logan held up the tooth for a moment and remembered his encounter with the hunter then, slowly, he made his way outside. The beautiful woman was sitting just outside the hut. She smiled at him. The sound of the engine had come from a large van that had just pulled into the village. On the side of the van were large black letters that read, ‘CHURCH OF GOD MISSIONS’. A white man wearing a great big hat stepped out of the van and waved. The man seemed out of place. A soft spot in the middle of the hard African wilderness. The man offered Logan a ride home.
