The Daughter of Doctor Moreau(87)

“Might as well let me go now,” Montgomery said. Through the corner of his eye he’d glimpsed a familiar gray shape.

“No chance of that.”

“You sure? It’d be better if you did.”

“Shut up.”

And then Aj Kaab, slow and big, came from the left and showed his rows of vicious teeth to the brute, who immediately lost his courage and pointed his pistol in the hybrid’s direction and attempted to shoot, only to find the weapon wrenched from his hands. The pistol fell to the ground. Aj Kaab’s teeth closed around the man’s hand, and he screamed.

Montgomery winced, hearing the unmistakable crunching of bone, as Aj Kaab roared and bit and chewed loudly.

Montgomery quickly picked up the weapon on the ground, maintaining a difficult grip on it with his hands still bound together, but at least he had a pistol now.

“What is this!” Eduardo yelled. The young mister had deigned to finally get his hands dirty and jumped off his horse.

Montgomery looked at the young man, and Eduardo stared at him. He slammed the butt of his gun against Eduardo’s head, pushing him away. Then he ran toward the spot where he’d last seen Lupe. She wasn’t atop her horse anymore.

It was chaos. Their mounts were spooked by the hybrids. They bucked up, snorted, and they kicked. Montgomery narrowly avoided being trampled by one of the riders by swooping low and slamming into a tree.

“Lupe!” he yelled.

He couldn’t see her anywhere. Had she been hurt? Bullets were raining around him as some of the men tried shooting liberally in any direction. Others, perhaps more cautious, had dismounted and held their pistols or knives close, eyes darting back and forth.

He ducked again. A man screamed as one of the hybrids tackled him. It was a shrill, brief sound. Montgomery counted two more hybrids besides Pinta, áayin, K’an, and Aj Kaab, a total of six furious, snarling creatures, slim and small, or lumbering and strong, whirling, darting, roaring. Spooking the horses, making the men launch into a prayer.

Lizalde yelled, ordered his men to kill the animals, but the hybrids were quick and they slipped away and slipped back into view, and the men were growing more and more desperate. It was like the strangest of dances, men suddenly paired with animal and twirling for a few moments, their steps tracing patterns etched in blood.

“Get them!” Lizalde kept saying.

Instead of finding Lupe, Montgomery bumped into Aj Kaab, who was slowly stumbling down the path. His tongue was poking out of his mouth as he huffed and sat down in the middle of the path, his great head falling forward.

“Aj Kaab! Old chap,” he said, kneeling in front of him. “Come on, get up.”

“Laughton,” the hybrid said, showing him his big teeth and making a fist, pressing it against his chest. “I told you, I’m old but strong. I need a rest.”

“Rest later, Aj Kaab,” he said and gripped the hybrid’s shoulder. But the hybrid wasn’t moving, and Montgomery saw the handle of the knife protruding from his furry belly. Montgomery held his breath.

Aj Kaab was dead.

“Laughton!” Lupe yelled.

He blinked, and she rushed to him, jumping over a corpse. Her hands were untied. She grabbed the rope holding him prisoner and gnawed at it until he was able to brush the bindings away. Men were screaming and dropping to the ground.

Their fear worked in the hybrids’ favor, but they were severely outnumbered and Hernando Lizalde was still shouting commands, saying they were merely animals. There were men scrambling, trying to reload their guns, and there were those who had decided to flee and were rushing off on foot or on the back of a terrified mount. Horses trampled upon the bodies of the ones who had fallen while the hybrids darted back and forth, spitting blood and chunks of flesh.

“Are you hurt?” Montgomery asked Lupe, as they quickly went along the trail.

“No. I’m fine.”

A gray-haired man with a red kerchief stepped next to them, a rifle in his wrinkled hands. With him was Cachito, who smiled at Montgomery.

“Montgomery!”

“What is happening here?” Montgomery asked.

“Can’t you guess? This is one of Cumux’s lieutenants.”

“Sir,” Montgomery said, reaching for the brim of his straw hat, but he’d lost it at some point and he ended simply brushing the hair away from his face.

“We’re fighting,” Cachito said excitedly.

“Down! Get down!” Lupe yelled.

Behind Cachito’s shoulder Montgomery saw Hernando Lizalde, his son standing next to him. The older man was aiming his beloved pistol with the ivory handle in their direction. Montgomery shoved the boy away and extended his arm, pulling the trigger of his own gun. When he hunted, he did it with finesse. Right then and there, there was no elegance to it. He clumsily pulled the trigger.

The bullet hit Hernando, and he saw the man stumble.

He wasn’t sure how badly he’d hurt Hernando Lizalde, but he did not have time to find out, because two riders flew toward them and Montgomery turned his gun in their direction, hitting one of the horses. Then he was out of bullets, and there was the loud blast of the rifle as someone shot the other rider. A fountain of blood sprouted from the horse’s neck, spraying Montgomery across the cheek even as he turned away and tried to distance himself from the poor creature, lest he be trampled.