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CRYBABY

©Copyright 2024 by Mark Watson

CHAPTER 29

The End of the Storm

The road split into two directions, each one vanishing into the misty expanse of the jungle. To the left, the gravel road wound toward the abandoned quarry, a lifeless stretch of cracked stone and rusting machinery. Straight ahead, an unbroken wall of dense forest loomed, the trees tangled together like grasping fingers, their roots twisting through the damp earth. To the right, the muddy path sloped downward toward the village, churned by the passage of vehicles that had traveled up before veering off toward the quarry road.

Ahanna and Raj stood at the crossroads, their breath slow and measured, listening for any sign of movement beyond the steady rhythm of the falling rain. It had begun in the early morning as a light mist but had since thickened into a steady vertical drizzle, soaking the jungle and erasing any clear tracks Crybaby might have left behind.

They weren’t trackers. They had neither the precision of the drones nor the instincts of the kumkis, and without the trained elephants to sense Crybaby’s presence, they were utterly blind.

Ahanna crouched, pressing her fingers against the gravel of the quarry road. It was firm, packed from years of use, and bore no signs of Crybaby’s massive weight disturbing it. If he had gone this way, the rain had already washed away any trace.

Raj moved to the muddy path leading toward the village, scanning the ground. Deep grooves and shallow puddles pocked the trail, evidence of heavy traffic. There were footprints, tire tracks, and the chaotic imprint of men and machines coming and going. But nothing definitive.

The rain had settled into a steady, misty drizzle, turning the world around them into a haze of shifting greens and grays. Raj wiped the water from his face with the back of his hand, his expression taut with frustration. The earth beneath their boots was soft and slick, the jungle floor damp with the scent of wet leaves and churned mud.

“Could be anywhere,” Raj muttered, his voice barely carrying over the sound of raindrops pattering against the canopy above.

Ahanna sighed, pushing herself to her feet and stretching out the ache in her legs. The choice ahead of them loomed like a shadow, heavy with uncertainty. To their left, the road twisted back toward the village, muddied and stamped down by the passage of countless feet and vehicle tires. If Crybaby had gone that way, his tracks were lost in the chaos. Straight ahead, the jungle stood like an impenetrable wall, thick with thorny undergrowth and towering trees. The dense foliage swallowed light, leaving the interior dark and foreboding even in the middle of the day. There would be no clear trail in there—if Crybaby had moved through, he had vanished without a trace.

Raj kicked at a loose stone, watching it tumble toward the path leading to the quarry. It was gravel-covered, well-maintained, and eerily undisturbed. No broken branches, no gouges in the dirt from massive feet, no trampled vegetation. Nothing to indicate a five-tonne rogue elephant had passed that way.

“We have nothing,” Raj admitted, his gaze shifting between the choices before them.

Ahanna clenched her jaw, frustration curling in her stomach. They were blind. The jungle was Crybaby’s kingdom—entering it without a clear trail was reckless. The village path was a risk, leading them away from their last known signs of the rogue elephant. And the quarry road… the silence there unsettled her. It was too open, too quiet. But at least it gave them the advantage of sight.

Raj exhaled loudly. “Might as well toss a coin.”

Ahanna shot him a sharp look. “Damn it, Raj. What’s your gut saying? You already hit him with one tranquilizer—where would he go?”

Raj hesitated, eyes narrowing as he considered. He turned slightly, letting his gaze follow the winding path toward the quarry, tracing the terrain in his mind. Finally, he spoke.

“I think the quarry road. There’s no sign of him heading back to the village, and if he does, someone will radio us. Everybody except us is there.” He motioned toward the empty road. “The quarry road leads down to the river, then across a stone bridge before looping back around. If we don’t find him there, we can always double back to the village.”

Ahanna studied him for a long moment, weighing the logic in his words. She didn’t like the idea of heading into a dead end, but she liked the idea of stumbling blind into the jungle even less.

“Alright,” she said, nodding. “The quarry it is.”

Without another word, they adjusted their rifles and stepped forward, the rain whispering against the leaves as they disappeared down the road, into the unknown.

By midday, exhaustion clung to them like a second skin. Sweat dripped down Raj’s face, soaking into the collar of his shirt, while Ahanna’s shoulders ached from the weight of her pack. The relentless sun bore down on them, unfiltered now that they had left the shelter of the jungle canopy behind. The road had become a winding, exposed path of packed dirt and loose gravel, snaking upward toward the quarry.

Their water supply was running dangerously low. What little they had left was rationed into careful sips, just enough to keep their throats from drying completely. Dust clung to their skin, kicked up by the occasional breeze, which did nothing to relieve the oppressive heat.

For hours, the only sounds were their own footsteps, the occasional bird cry, and the ever-present hum of the forest pressing in from the edges of the road. Yet, every so often, Raj would glance over his shoulder, sensing something unseen moving in the distance. Ahanna felt it too—that crawling awareness prickling at the back of her neck. But whenever they paused, listening, watching, there was nothing. No shifting foliage, no displaced branches. Just the rumbles of distant machinery, vibrations humming through the ground as they neared the quarry.

Finally, the path curved, widening into a narrow spit of land beside a fast-moving river. On the opposite bank, the quarry stretched out before them, a sprawling pit carved into the landscape, its terraced slopes dusted in pale, powdery stone. The air was thick with grit, carried by hot gusts of wind, and the constant din of heavy machinery drowned out the sounds of the surrounding wilderness.

Ahanna let out a breath and tugged off her pack, letting it drop to the ground with a dull thud. She moved toward a flat, sun-bleached stone near the water’s edge and sat down heavily, her back to the roaring river and the busy, dust-choked quarry.

For a moment, she simply closed her eyes, allowing the exhaustion to settle over her like a weighted blanket. There was still no sign of Crybaby. Nothing but heat, dust, and the unshakable feeling that something was watching them.

Ahanna wiped the sweat from her brow, staring across the river toward the sprawling quarry. The midday sun bore down on her, its heat pressing against her skin like a physical weight. Her muscles ached, her water supply was almost gone, and still, there was no sign of Crybaby. The road behind them stretched empty, the jungle around them thick and impenetrable.

Then—a rustling in the undergrowth.

Ahanna’s instincts flared. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her rifle as she turned toward the sound. The jungle was dense, layered in shadow, but something was there. Something moving.

Before she could react, a figure emerged from the treeline, stepping onto the road with slow, deliberate confidence.

Rahul.

He was filthy from the journey, his shirt damp with sweat and streaked with mud, but his expression was smug, victorious. In his hands, raised and steady, was his rifle—pointed directly at her.

Ahanna tensed, heart pounding.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Rahul said, his voice calm, almost casual. “Enough of you. Enough of the rangers. Enough of being told what to do.” His finger hovered over the trigger. "This ends now."

Ahanna didn’t move.

"You're really going to kill me?" she asked, her voice carefully measured. "That desperate to get rid of me, Rahul?"

His lips curled into a smirk. "You and that damn elephant. I’m done playing along. Crybaby dies today. And so do you."

She kept her gaze locked on him, but her peripheral vision flicked to Raj. He stood a few paces away, gripping the tranquilizer rifle. Something about his stance was off—rigid, uneasy.

"Raj," Rahul continued, not even glancing at him. "Shoot her. Dart her, throw her in the river, and we’re done."

Raj hesitated.

Ahanna’s pulse quickened.

"Raj?" she asked, her voice firm. "Are you really going to do this?"

Raj’s hands were shaking. The tranquilizer gun wavered slightly, but it was still aimed at her.

"He doesn’t have a choice," Rahul sneered. "You think I dragged him along for his tracking skills? I own him. His wife is back in the village, and if he doesn’t do exactly what I say, my men will slit her throat before sundown. I’m the bandit leader Ahanna. That village is mine and everyone in it. They always have been. Even my brother knew it."

Ahanna’s stomach twisted. She saw Raj’s expression flicker, his face tightening with pain.

"You son of a bitch," she murmured.

Rahul chuckled. "You’re catching on. Now, Raj—do it."

Raj swallowed hard, his knuckles white on the grip of the tranquilizer gun. His finger inched toward the trigger.

Then, the jungle exploded.

A deafening roar, primal and furious, shattered the tension. The trees shook as something massive barreled through the undergrowth, leaves and branches snapping like brittle twigs. The earth trembled beneath their feet.

Crybaby.

He came like a thunderstorm, his enormous form tearing through the trees with the unstoppable force of a landslide. His bloodied tusks gleamed in the sunlight, his enraged trumpeting splitting the air like a battle cry.

"Shit!" Rahul spun, raising his rifle, eyes wide.

He pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Panic flashed across his face. He tried again, frantically yanking at the bolt, but the gun refused to fire.

Ahanna realized it instantly.

Raj had sabotaged it.

Rahul barely had time to register the betrayal before Crybaby was upon him.

The rogue elephant's trunk lashed out, striking Rahul with the force of a battering ram. He was lifted off his feet, flung through the air like a ragdoll. His scream barely left his throat before he crashed into the river.

For a second, there was silence—just the bubbling churn of water.

Then, he sank.

The weight of the stolen gold, hidden beneath his clothes and strapped inside his backpack, dragged him straight down. His hands flailed uselessly, his mouth opened in a final, soundless scream, and then he was gone.

The river swallowed him whole, the weight of his fortune was his death.

Raj barely had time to process it before he turned to Ahanna and Crybaby.

The giant bull stood before her, his breath coming in heavy, heaving snorts. His ears flared wide, his red-rimmed eyes burning with rage, ancient and unrelenting.

She should have been afraid.

She stepped forward instead.

The two of them stood face to face—hunter and hunted, predator and protector.

Slowly, deliberately, she lowered her weapon.

"Crybaby," she whispered.

The great beast huffed, his massive chest rising and falling. His tusks, like scythes, gleamed as he shifted his weight. His muscles were taut, his entire body a coiled spring of power.

Ahanna didn’t move. She stood her ground, her hands open, her breathing slow and measured. Her gaze never wavered as she met Crybaby’s burning, red-rimmed eyes.

She could feel the weight of his presence pressing down on her, a colossus of muscle and rage, his scarred body heaving with each deep breath. He was still trembling from the burst of fury that had sent Rahul to his grave, his flared ears twitching, his trunk coiling and uncoiling with restless energy. The air between them was thick with tension, humming with something ancient and unspoken.

Softly, barely above a whisper, Ahanna began to murmur.

“Shhhhhh… Easy, big fella. We’re not here to hurt you. Nobody’s going to hurt you. Not anymore.”

Crybaby huffed, shifting his weight. His enormous head lowered slightly, but his eyes stayed locked onto hers.

“Shhhhh… That’s it. Nobody will hurt you again. Nobody.” She repeated the words over and over, her voice soothing, steady, unwavering.

Crybaby flared his ears, lifting his trunk for a moment before shaking his head violently. His great feet shuffled—one step forward, then one back, uncertain, torn between instinct and something deeper.

Raj watched, frozen in place, his heart pounding. The jungle around them had fallen into absolute silence, as if even the trees and creatures were waiting, holding their breath. The moment stretched impossibly long, each second a taut wire ready to snap.

Crybaby had never looked more massive, more powerful. He could end her in an instant. One step, one swing of his great tusks, and she would be nothing but a smear in the dirt. Ahanna looked tiny standing before him, like a porcelain doll that could be shattered, so fragile but so human.

And yet… something in Crybaby’s gaze had changed.

Ahanna didn’t look away, didn’t flinch.

“Shhhhh… Come on, big guy. It’s over,” she murmured.

Crybaby’s ears twitched again. He let out a long, rattling exhale, his trunk dipping slightly. The fury in his eyes dulled, just a little, the sharp edge of his aggression softening into something else—confusion, exhaustion… something almost like recognition.

His massive form seemed to deflate, the tension rolling off his shoulders like a slow-breaking wave.

Ahanna took a single, careful step closer.

Crybaby let out one final, heavy breath, his trunk swaying slightly. Then, with a deep, groaning sigh, he sank down onto his knees.

The earth trembled beneath his weight.

A deep, rumbling sigh left his throat as he lowered his massive head, resting it mere inches from her.

Ahanna reached out, her fingers brushing against the rough, battle-scarred skin of his forehead. The warmth of his massive form radiated beneath her touch. He let out a low, tired rumble, his body finally yielding.

Raj, standing in stunned silence, raised the tranquilizer gun and fired.

The dart embedded into Crybaby’s thick hide.

The elephant barely flinched. He just breathed—one long, final exhale—before his great body swayed and then collapsed.

Ahanna stroked his head one last time before stepping back, reaching for her radio.

"Base, this is Ahanna," she said, her voice firm. "Crybaby is down. We need a transport team. It’s over."

The radio crackled, confirming the message.

She released a slow, trembling breath, then turned to Raj. For a moment, neither of them spoke, their faces frozen in disbelief. Then, as the weight of everything crashed over them, their expressions broke into wide, unrestrained grins. A laugh bubbled up—relief, exhaustion, triumph all tangled together—and suddenly, they were laughing, pure and unfiltered. They had done it.

For the first time in weeks, the village was safe.

END OF CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

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