Wild Tiger Chase | Book #2 (Complete)

37: hunger

— Connie Travone —

Jackal drummed her fingers on the table, her eyes set on the dark clouds gathering outside.

That wasn't a good sign.

The reports she had received from Father's friends mentioned a ring of furious weather around the western portion of South New Continent barring the way to the NAVport in Cidade Santa. For almost a week now, all the airNAVs that crossed through that ring had met the same obstacle, a furious turbulence that plunged eleven airNAVs into the Atlantic or onto the beaches of OC.

Yule Modraniht's was among them, and Jackal couldn't imagine what Dr. Modraniht had been through during that past week. Old Continent was a lawless place, a terrible place, a hungry place that Jackal hated to love, and she knew how unforgivable it could be.

So much so, that before she left for OC, her father had begged her not to go.

"There's something dangerous in that damned place, Connie," he had said. "If you go, something terrible will happen to you."

She had ignored him as she always did. OC could be hungry, but Jackal was famished. And as her mother used to say, Jackals eat everything.

"For Goddess' sake, woman," Sissy whispered, her eyebrows almost reaching her hairline. "You can't eat the shell too!"

If Jackal had to be honest, though, she wasn't so sure about how safe their journey would be. She had taken several precautions, ranging from mechanical improvements on their airNAV to expensive psionic enhancing devices, just in case. Now, all she could do was to wait, see, and continue chewing.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

A small memory rolled into her mind.

A beach in New Continent, seagulls squawking in the distance; rainbow-colored wet sand under the sundown, massive creatures lying on the sand, your shell warming under the dying sun. A gloved hand coming from above, then dropping you in a bag filled with others like you. You're all thrown into a boiling cauldron. You scream as you're boiled alive.

She snapped out of the crab's memories and blinked back into the present. Jackal's eyes locked on Sissy and her mind ground pebbles of thoughts to place her into the conversation again.

"The Crab shell?" Sissy asked. She sucked on a crab claw and tossed it on the small bucket between them. "The crunching sound is making me crazy."

"Hum." Jackal shrugged. "I like it. That's how my father's old Spanish friends used to eat crab." She took a new bite and laughed at Sissy's horrified expression. With a wink, Jackal propped her chin on a hand and tortured Sissy a little bit more with mouthfuls of crab and loud chewing. She tossed the remains of the creature in the bucket and fished another from the boiling cauldron. "It's just the soft shell, Sissy. This part here"—she pointed at it—"is edible and very tasty. Here, try it."

"Oh, no way in hell. I'm almost fifty-four, I don't need a kid to teach me how to eat."

Jackal scoffed. She hated to be called a kid, but Sissy, Rio, and Yule were fun to be around, so she let them forget the hierarchic abyss between them... most of the time.

Besides, Sissy had always reminded her of her mother.

Not in appearance, because Sissy's broad shoulders and stocky build were the complete opposite of Mother's smaller body. No. Their likeness lied somewhere else.

Maybe it was something mundane, like using the same perfume or shopping for the same brand of clothes. And maybe it was the way Sissy looked at the world around her, with those sad, mopey eyes of someone who knows better than trusting the powers that be.