[color=red]Harry Timms[/color] felt his own stomach roll over at the sight of Harold's blood staining the ground and shrubs. There was so much of it that the [i]nominal[/i] leader of the group knew the missing man was certainly dead.

"I want everyone on guard," he said, waving back those who were curious about what had been found, instructing, "You don't want to see this."

He looked to [color=red]Cliff Sampson[/color], [color=red]Harvey Kingston[/color], and [color=red]Diego Garcia[/color] -- all armed -- and said, "And watch where you're pointing those things."

Harry gestured the group to parallel his own path, which followed the trail of blood.  They moved slowly, cautiously; Harry whispered repeatedly for them to watch their steps.

[color=red]Shari Sampson[/color] finally whispered back, "You know that if there's a Saber-toothed cat out here, we aren't going to sneak up on it. Have you ever stalked wild game, particularly a predator?"

Harry reluctantly shrugged and shook his head. Shari advised him, "The best we get is a very long distant look at the cat as it is running away from us, but there's no chance we'll [i]sneak up[/i] on it."

"And what if it's still carrying Harold in its jaws?" he asked, reminding her of why they were there in the first place.

[b]40 minutes later:[/b]

Ironically, there had been no sneaking necessary to find the Saber-toothed cat. The 8 [i]stalkers[/i] reached the edge of a clearing in the woods and suddenly, there less than 30 yards away, the predator was on its belly at the far edge of the open space ... eating their friend. Harold's corpse was barely recognized as once being Human. His legs were still in his jeans, stained with blood down to his knees; most of the rest of his torso had been eviscerated, with his bowels torn out, spread around, ravaged; his skull was unseen, though, that might have been due to the position of the animal eating it.

Initially, the Saber-toothed cat -- which was sitting at an angle away from the Human's looking at it in awe and fright -- could have been mistaken as being just a very big lion. Its fur was longer than that of a 21st century lion and its mane shorter, but still. And then it turned casually to stare at the other examples of its current meal. Emerging downward from it blood covered mouth were canine teeth -- [i]fangs[/i] is what they almost looked like -- that were 8 to 12 inches long. 

The cat watched the [i]intruders[/i] interrupting his lunch for a long moment as they simply stared at it in silence. Then, it casually turned back to eating on Harold. [color=red]Willy Washington[/color] whispered, "What do we do?"

Diego was the first to respond: "We shoot it. We kill that fucker dead."

"No," Harry said softly. "We came out here to rescue Harold. That's not going to happen now."

"We have guns!" Javier argued, supported by some of the unarmed people who likely felt as vulnerable as poor old Harold.

"We would have to hit that cat a dozen times to kill it," Harry told them, "and it would probably still kill one or more of us before it died. No. We back up slowly and get the fuck out of here."

"What about--?"

"We'll come back to bury Harold later," Harry said. "We'll do right by him. I promise."

Someone murmured, "Do right by what's left of him you mean."

Harry had enough support to get the group to back away, though, and a few minutes later they were out of the woods and heading back for the camp. Again, Harry stopped them just outside the gathering area, saying, "I think it's best if we tell the others that we couldn't find Harold."

That set off an argument that persisted for a couple of minutes. At a calm in the discussion, Harry held his hand out and said, "I need the guns back."

Again, that led to disagreement, but Harry insisted, "We need to create a sort of Camp Watch, to watch out for more of those cats and whatever the fuck else is out there, waiting to eat us. If you want to join the Watch, you get a gun back."

"I join now," Diego said as he stuffed his gun into the small of his back. "I join, and I keep."

He strode off toward the camp, done with the conversation. After a moment of them looking at each other in silence, the rest of them heading toward the others, too. On the way, Shari demanded the pistol her son was carrying, and after Cliff gave it up, she handed it to Harry. She told the man, "My son and I will join the watch, too."

Back at camp, Harry explained that the search had been for naught, but that they were certain that a large predatory feline was in the area. "We need to be careful about our movements. No one leaves the camp without company. No one leaves the camp without a weapon. Anyone who wants to learn how to use the pistols will be shown. We just have to limit live fire practice because we have a limited supply of ammunition."

Harry and Shari both looked to and glared at Javier who, of course, had more guns and ammo. Harry knew a deal with Javier would have to be made if the group was threatened again by the cat or some other dangerous predator.

"In the meantime," Harry continued, "did any of you see the movie [i]The 13th Warrior[/i]? Or [i]Braveheart[/i]? Or even that episode of [i]The Walking Dead[/i] when the Sheriff found Morgan again?"

Many in the group understood just to what Harry was leading, and with the hour, they were working on defenses for the crash site. It was decided that a [i]13th Warrior[/i] style moat and sharpened pole barricade would probably take too long and, in the end, likely not stop the beast, which would simply leap over it. But it was decided that [i]William Wallace[/i]-style, hand held lances could be effective, particularly in conjunction with the pistols.

The real problem was cutting down and sharpening the pole. It took hours to find metal shards and debris that could be used as axes or knives.  Those tools made of aluminum were weak and bent, while those made of steel were impossible to make sharp. Ultimately, they were able to use just one piece of steel debris that had had a relatively sharp edge on it due to its construction. There were thoughts of using the blades from the plane's engines, but getting them separated from the engine itself was proving to be difficult.

While part of the group worked on defenses, the others fashioned digging tools and buried the dead. Flies and little critters had already found the corpses. There was a great deal of argument about whether the deceases should be buried as is or stripped of their clothing. Some found the latter disrespectful, but when it was pointed out that there was no mall or Walmart at which to buy clothes and shoes once the wardrobes now being worn were [i]worn out[/i], a vote was taken. 

Two thirds of the survivors voted to take the outer layers of clothing but leave undergarments in place. Women undressed women, men undressed men, and Harry and [color=red]Connie Flanagan[/color] watched over it all. Personal possessions that had a value to the group were [i]salvaged[/i]: lighters, matches, gum, pen lights, cosmetics, cigarettes, etc.; those of a very personal nature, including wallets, photos, jewelry, etc., were buried with their owners.

At sundown, the job was done and much of the group assembled to speak a few words. During a moment of silence, [color=red]Milka Planinc[/color] -- a 34 year old Croatian-American woman who had had to be carried to the grave site due to having both legs broken in the crash -- surprised the others by breaking into a soft rendition of [i]Sweet Chariot[/i] in her native tongue of Croatian. It was simply stunning; her voice was angelic and strong, despite the pain she was suffering due to her injuries. 

Others showed a desire to join in, but with the song being sung in a language none of them spoke, a handful of them joined in by humming along with her. It was an emotional moment, and when Milka finished, she received thanks from many before the group slowly disbanded to return to the camp some 50 yards away.

Harry sat with two dozen men and women to discuss watch standing, and a plan was hatched out:
[list]
[*]3 pairs would stand 4 hour watches from dusk to dawn, spread out like the points of a triangle.
[*]Another watch stander would set up atop the fuselage for a longer distance view.
[*]Each of these groups would be armed with one pistol, two clips, spears, and clubs; enough of the latter two had been fashioned to supply the Watch Standers as needed.
[*]The Watch Standers would be just on the perimeter of the camp, not so far out that they would be in danger.
[*]Fires were built 50 yards out from their positions, to hopefully deter some wild creature -- a cat perhaps? -- or at least light it up if it neared.
[*]Any survivors who wanted to sleep inside the fuselage were advised to do so. In the end, after more fearful discussion about poor lost Harold, more than 1/3 of the group moved inside.
[/list]
And so the second night began...


After hours, the work was abandoned for rest and meals. The last of the food was consumed that night, and it wasn't a balanced meal in the least. It was decided that tomorrow, an effort had to be made to find new food sources, as well as water.

For safety reasons