Matt Archer: Monster Hunter (Matt Archer #1) by Kendra C. Highley Page A

whispered.
    “Not even a person with a machete could do this, Matt,” Mike
said, his nose wrinkled in disgust.
    “God.” I blew out a little breath, trying to keep my stomach
steady, determined not to throw up. “Major, what do I do if it hurts me? How do
I get away?”
    Mike froze. “There won’t be time.” He turned to me. “You
have to be on constant alert and move fast. You cannot hesitate. Kill the monster before
it kills you. Period.”
    My knees threatened to turn to jelly, but I gave myself a
mental slap in the face and squared my shoulders. “Then let’s get moving and
take this one out.”
    I searched the brush for tracks. Based on the broken twigs,
crushed leaves and huge paw prints, the monster had continued on to the north.
Its claws left four gouges at the front of each footprint. That should’ve
scared the piss out of me, but my pulse quickened with anticipation—we had it
now. I started ahead, but Mike didn’t come.
    “Did you hear something?” he asked, looking behind us.
    “No.” I strained my ears. A few leaves crunched together.
“Wait, yeah. Doesn’t sound like a monster though. Too small. A raccoon, or a
big rabbit?”
    Mike stared at the trees without moving. Finally, he shook
his head. “Just an animal. I’m keyed up; we’re getting close. Let’s go quiet,
though, just in case.”
    We moved silently through the evergreens, using branches and
shadows to hide us as we followed its tracks. Only ten minutes later, we found
it. A huge shadow shuffled through the trees fifty feet in front of us. It
lumbered without caution, as if it didn’t care who or what it ran into.
    Cold fingers prickled down my back. As we crept ahead, I
wondered if it would be able to smell us. Almost at my thought, it turned our
direction, and sniffed the air. Mike held up a fist—the sign for “halt”—and
motioned for me to get down. I crouched in the brush, holding my breath. After
a moment, Mike pushed forward again.
    As we sneaked closer, we caught glimpses of the monster
through the branches. Its shaggy fur was mottled, with both dark and light
patches. Same short snout and curved, boar-like tusks as the first one I’d
killed, but this monster was taller and lankier. The Bear stood on its hind
legs and pulled eggs out of a bird’s nest, popping them in its mouth like they
were mints. Mike and I held so still that I could hear the poor eggs crunch in
its teeth.
    With a shock, I realized the knife was still in my
backpack—I’d forgotten to put it in my pocket when we found the trail. I tried
to pull the knife out of my bag, but the zipper stuck, making a grinding noise
as I tugged it.
    The monster’s ears pricked up. Had it heard us?
    “Steady, Matt,” Uncle Mike said, his whisper barely audible.
“Get ready. I’ll divert it, and…”
    Something crashed through the trees off to our right. “Ow!”
    Will fell out of the bushes, ripping the sleeve of his ski
jacket on a branch, and landed on his knees right in front the creature. The
Bear jerked its head in his direction and Mike and I flattened ourselves
against the ground. Will’s head tilted slowly upward as he checked out the
beast in front of him, his mouth hanging open. The Bear flexed its claws and
took a few steps toward Will with a pleased-sounding grunt.
    I yanked the knife out of my backpack and tried to get up,
but Mike held me down.
    “Lemme go,” I whispered. “It’ll kill him!”
    Mike shook his head. “We wait. Need to see what it does to
get a better point of attack.”
    In the meantime, Will had gone rigid, still kneeling on the
forest floor, staring at the beast with terror painted all over his face. The
monster lumbered toward him, its eyes wide.
    “Nice bear…thing. Nice bear,” Will babbled to the monster
like it was a stray dog. “I’ll be going now.”
    He scrambled to his feet. The Bear leapt on top of him; they
tumbled to the ground in a heap of fur, arms and legs.
    Mike was up like a shot, waving a tree