The Wolf of Los Angeles

[Chapter 287: The Hunt Begins]

The engine roared to life, startling animals deep in the woods. Countless birds flapped their wings, soaring into the sky.

Four pickup trucks rolled along a somewhat muddy road, carefully maneuvering around a no-hunting zone, heading towards the intersection of wetlands and forest.

After a long drive, the convoy stopped at the junction.

On one of the pickups, Erica took out an insect repellent spray, giving some to the driver, Hawke, before spraying a bit on herself.

"This place has swamps," Hawke said, glancing back at the muddy ground.

Erica donned her gloves. "Be careful where you step."

Hawke exited the vehicle, opened the back door, and retrieved the Winchester M12 shotgun he had bought in Wyoming, slinging an ammo bag over his shoulder.

Meanwhile, Erica pulled out a Savage bear-hunting rifle.

Duran, their rugged guide with a beard, had already sensed that these two clients were not ordinary hunters.

He pointed ahead. "About eight hundred meters out is a small lake. Last month, someone spotted a huge crocodile here. Two people confirmed it was nearly five meters long."

"Any bigger ones?" Erica asked.

"Based on the intel I have, that's the largest one," Duran replied. "While American alligators can grow over six meters, ones exceeding five meters are quite rare."

Suddenly, a thunderous roar broke the air.

Hawke looked up towards the sound. In the distance, a small plane flew from south to north, seemingly dropping several items along the way.

"What's the plane dropping?" he called out.

Erica grabbed her binoculars, squinting at the scene. "Looks like orange emergency kits."

The plane quickly turned back south.

"There's a forest ranger station nearby; it could be a supply drop," Duran explained.

Hawke nodded, not adding much more to the conversation.

Duran watched as two two assistants grabbed ropes, shouldering bags filled with bait. "Some crocodiles can be very skittish. We'll walk over first, wait until we successfully capture one, and then bring the trucks around."

Hawke nodded. "Sounds good."

...

Duran led the way with his crew. Raul, Guti, and Morentes followed closely. In the middle walked Hawke and Erica, with the four heavily armed bodyguards bringing up the rear.

The worn path underfoot marked the boundary between woods and soggy terrain.

The further they walked, the thicker the humidity became; Hawke could even smell the water as they approached the river.

Duran halted suddenly, glancing back toward the trees.

Hawke caught a rustling sound and instinctively stepped forward to shield Erica.

He spotted a shadow.

A sub-adult black bear had caught a whiff of the meat and rushed toward the edge of the woods.

Its eyesight was poor, but its sense of smell was acute; starving, it had detected food and rushed out excitedly.

But when it finally saw the humans, it skidded to a stop.

In the crowd, Hawke raised his shotgun, pointing it at the bear.

The other guns aimed in that direction too.

The young black bear sniffed hard, raised its front half as if to show off, then turned and scampered back into the underbrush, disappearing without a backward glance.

Duran watched the retreating bear and commented, "Too small."

Hawke, not firing because of the same concern, agreed, "Let's see if we encounter a bigger one."

"It seems to recognize guns," Erica pondered.

"Those who don't know the gun are already dead," Duran said.

Laughter followed among the group.

...

After trekking forward for several hundred meters, they arrived at a lake.

Duran guided Hawke and Erica to inspect signs of animal activity along the lakeshore while the others kept a lookout.

To the south, a patch of land with only some dried grass and muddy ground revealed claw and hoof prints along with signs of a struggle.

Duran knelt in the mud, pointing at the ground. "This looks like a watering spot for animals. Not long ago, a crocodile was nearby, perhaps after a larger land animal. The scuff marks indicate a large croc rolling over after a kill."

Hawke, gloved hands brushing the cracked earth, noted, "It has been living around here for a while; it must be hungry. Let's bait it."

"Agreed," Duran replied.

Hawke took the rope sent by his assistant and secured a robust specialized metal hook at one end.

Erica grabbed a piece of meat, hanging it on the hook before inspecting the water's surface. "No sign of any crocodiles yet."

"We'll start with bait," given crocodiles might be enormous, Hawke held one end of rope and walked over to a thick tree to tie it off.

When he returned, Erica lifted the hook and tossed the bait into the shallow area.

The team retreated, concealing themselves behind a mound of earth.

Now, it was simply a waiting game.

Hawke, possessing unparalleled patience, sat on the ground, his gaze fixed on the lakeside.

Occasionally, Erica would shift the rope, causing the bait to jiggle slightly, tempting any lurking crocs.

...

In the woods, the young black bear dashed through the trees, startled by a sudden roar and quickly changing direction.

A large adult male bear was nearby.

Though biologically related, the male bear would be aggressive towards its young.

This adult bear was massive, towering almost two meters high when standing, not the record-breaking weight of 345 kilogram but still formidable.

From above, several orange emergency kits tumbled down, catching the young bear's attention.

It rushed towards the packages, tearing one open with its agile paws and exposing the foul-smelling contents.

After a few curious bites, it lost interest and savagely tore the package apart.

Dust rose around it as it eagerly clawed at the now ruined container, leaving some patches of white powder on its dark fur.

Shortly thereafter, the bear went into a wild frenzy, ripping at the bark of a nearby tree, stripping it clean, while another small tree snapped under its force.

It stood up, appearing intoxicated, emitting enraged roars.

This bear was high, rampaging through the woods like a black bulldozer.

...

At the lakeside, a group of people who wanted to fish for crocodiles waited for a long time.

Even Duran was beginning to lose patience, questioning the validity of his intel.

The tracks on the muddy ground were legitimate, but sometimes crocodiles would relocate from their usual haunts.

Unlike Duran, Hawke and Erica maintained their composure, embodying seasoned hunters.

Just when Duran was about to suggest they try somewhere else, Hawke spotted an object drifting toward the surface, whispering, "Here it comes."

Erica raised her binoculars, spotting the moving crocodile. "It's approaching; it's heading toward the bait."

Hawke tugged at the rope, creating ripples in the shallow water while warning Erica, "Hold it steady."

"Should we capture it alive?" Erica inquired.

Hawke shook his head. "No, let's aim to take it out. We aren't trying to keep it; we just need one for a trophy."

Erica readied her Savage rifle, aiming at the area where the crocodile would emerge.

The crocodile disappeared beneath the water, and Hawke tightened his grip on the slack of the rope.

Suddenly, the line jerked forward.

Hawke flexed his arms, pulling back hard, feeling the weight on the other end.

The crocodile had swallowed the bait whole, including the hefty metal hook, now lodged within its jaws.

Hawke yanked back forcefully, the hook embedding deeper, causing the crocodile to roll in the water.

The surface erupted as it thrashed about, sending water and mud flying while blood quickly stained the lake.

Hawke gripped the retractable cord tightly, pulling in the direction of the croc, its massive head breaking the surface.

This monster was large; it twisted its head, attempting to swim away.

Hawke lunged forward, planted his feet firmly on the ground, and flexed his muscles, steadying himself.

Duran dashed to Hawke's side with two assistants, grasping the rope and pulling together.

Guti arrived shortly, helping to heave the rope.

The four men combined their strength, dragging the crocodile from the shallow waters to the shore.

The American crocodile revealed itself, spanning nearly five meters long, with skin like armor and jaws that could swallow a grown man whole.

Yet, the hook was still piercing its mouth.

Blood poured from the wounded jaws as it thrashed in desperation.

Hawke bellowed, "Pull harder; we need to get it onto solid ground!"

The three behind him grunted together, finally forcing the crocodile onto the bank.

In a final act of defiance, the croc initiated its death roll, spinning ferociously.

Despite its massive size, the hook inflicted grave wounds with each turn.

Blood gushed from its mouth, merging with the foul smell of wet earth, creating a sickening stench.

As the struggle continued, the animal's strength dwindled until it came to a stop.

Hawke and the others, working tirelessly, matched its raw power.

Just over the edge of its demise, the crocodile opened its mouth again.

Finally, Erica spotted a clear shot and took aim.

Her rifle trained on the open jaws, she pulled the trigger!

The gunshot echoed far and wide, scattering birds into the sky.

The crocodile jolted, its struggle fading as the life ebbed from it.

*****

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