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CRYBABY

©Copyright 2024 by Mark Watson

CHAPTER 23

PERMISSION GRANTED

It was just the kind of beautiful rainforest morning Ahanna most enjoyed. Crisp, misty, and, apart from the rhythmic twitterings of the birds and insects, completely still. An immaculate morning. Perfect for hunting down a killer, crazed, rogue elephant. The forest stretched out like a living, breathing tapestry as Ahanna surveyed it from her vantage point atop the shallow, flat-roof of one of The Onion House. The air was cool and damp, infused with the earthy scent of wet foliage and the faint sweetness of blooming wildflowers. Tendrils of mist clung to the forest floor, coiling around tree trunks like ghostly serpents, while beams of soft, golden sunlight filtered through the dense canopy above, dappling the ground in shifting patterns of light and shadow.

Everywhere, life stirred. The jungle was deceptively serene in its waking moments. A pair of hornbills flapped noisily overhead, their curved beaks catching the sunlight as they disappeared into the shadows. In the trees across the fields a troupe of langurs leaped gracefully between the branches, their whoops and chattering adding to the symphony of the morning.

Below, iridescent butterflies danced lazily over the shallow puddles in the grooves of the crops, their wings glinting like precious jewels.

Ahanna inhaled deeply, savoring the momentary peace. The humidity clung to her skin, but the morning still felt fresh, almost untouched. These were the hours she treasured—when the forest was calm, the chaos of the world kept at bay by the sheer power of nature’s timeless rhythm.

The day would soon brighten into one of those vivid, sharp mornings where the sunlight illuminated every leaf and drop of dew, but for now, the soft forest floor held the secrets of the rogue elephant's passage. Ahanna felt a guarded optimism. With the ground softened by recent rains and the foliage still damp, the deep imprints of the giant elephant, Crybaby’s passage would be easier to follow. The tools they had at their disposal—drones and kumki elephants—meant this was no ordinary hunt. It was a well-coordinated operation, leveraging both ancient techniques and modern technology.

The kumki elephants were the heart of the effort. These trained elephants were an invaluable part of managing wildlife in India, particularly when dealing with rogue elephants or herds that strayed too close to human settlements. For centuries, kumkis had been used to coax or corral wild elephants, leveraging their imposing presence and calm authority. Unlike their wild counterparts, kumkis were steady and accustomed to human commands. Their role in this hunt was not merely to assist the rangers but to confront Crybaby directly if necessary—to block his path, steer him into a safer zone, or even stand firm in the face of his aggression.

Moti, the elephant Ahanna would ride, had been part of similar missions before. Ahanna knew the elephant was both an ally and a deterrent—a massive, intelligent creature that could hold its ground against Crybaby if it came to that. Kumkis weren’t just tools; they were partners, and their mahouts shared an unbreakable bond with them, one forged over years of mutual trust.

But the kumkis weren’t the only advantage they had. Circling high above the jungle canopy would be the drones, sleek and quiet, their small rotors humming faintly in the distance. These drones were equipped with thermal imaging cameras and live-feed video capabilities, providing Ahanna’s team with an invaluable bird’s-eye view of the dense forest. Even from miles away, the drones could pick up the heat signature of an animal as large as Crybaby. This would allow the rangers to track his movements in real time, pinpointing his location without having to blindly search through the undergrowth.

Of more concern would be the passengers. Ahanna had met with her superior last night in the office he had set up for himself in one of the many rooms of The Onion House…

“We should take Rahul and Raj with us” Ahanna proposed.

“Why?” Her boss, DFO Mahesh Sharma, was a man of few words when he needed to be.

“Raj because he’s the best shot with a tranquilizer rifle I’ve ever seen. He took down one of the bandits and he hit Susanna, the tiger from across a clearing as she was in the air. I don’t think the kumkis will want to get too close to Crybaby, he’s double their size at least and massively aggressive. Another thing, apart from me he’s the only other one of us who has seen it in the flesh. He won’t be seeing it for the first time so he won’t panic or go into shock. Remember, Crybaby is a real monster.”

Ahanna’s breath caught as she recalled the night she had literally bumped into Crybaby behind the Shaman’s House. The memory of that encounter had seared itself into her mind, haunting her dreams ever since. He had loomed there, a monstrous shadow against the pale shimmer of moonlight. A ghost, she had thought at first, but no specter could match the terrible reality of him.

Crybaby was colossal, an immense and hulking presence that seemed to blot out the night itself. In the dim light, his form had been impossibly vast, like a mountain come to life. The gleam of his tusks caught her eye first—long, curved, and caked with dried blood. The sharp, metallic tang of it filled the air, mingling with the musky, feral scent of his sweat-soaked hide. His face, usually an elephant’s most expressive feature, was an unrecognizable mask of rage and violence, smeared with dark streaks of blood and mud. His ears flared wide, backlit by the cold silver light of the moon, giving him an almost otherworldly appearance.

She remembered the way his skin had glistened, slick from sweat and streaked with dirt and gore, the deep ridges of his muscular frame rippling as he shifted his weight. His eyes had been the worst—small, glinting orbs, glowing with an unnerving mixture of intelligence and unrelenting fury. They had locked onto her, freezing her in place as though she were prey. Those eyes weren’t just angry; they were calculating, filled with a primal, unshakable hatred that made her stomach churn.

And his size—Ahanna had never truly understood how massive an elephant could be until that moment. Crybaby had towered above her, impossibly tall, as though he were some ancient being of legend come to exact judgment. He wasn’t five stories high, she knew, but in that instant, he might as well have been. The sheer bulk of him, the way he seemed to fill every inch of the narrow clearing behind the Shaman’s House, made the air around him feel heavy and oppressive. Even the moonlight seemed afraid to touch him, casting jagged shadows across his frame, making him appear even larger, more monstrous.

He hadn’t made a sound. That had unnerved her most of all. Crybaby was famous for his blood-curdling roars, the deafening trumpets that had sent villagers fleeing into the night. But in that moment, he was silent, a ghost in the moonlight, his breath misting in the cool air as he stared her down. The only noise had been the steady drip of blood from his tusks, pooling at his feet in a dark, viscous puddle. She could still hear it if she closed her eyes—the slow, rhythmic sound that punctuated the silence like a sinister metronome.

She had backed away slowly, her heart pounding so hard she feared it would betray her. Crybaby hadn’t charged. He hadn’t roared. He had simply watched her, his body coiled with latent power, as if daring her to make one wrong move. And then, with a slow, deliberate turn, he had lumbered into the darkness, disappearing into the jungle as silently as he had appeared.

Even now, in the light of day, the memory sent a shiver down her spine. Crybaby wasn’t just a rogue elephant. He was something else entirely—something ancient, something vengeful.

“Who else?” he asked.

“Rahul,” she replied, watching Mahesh’s face change in disbelief.

“Okay, hear me out. He’s the mayor of the village, so it would be good to involve him, but he’s also the brother of the chief killed by Crybaby.”

“Nisheed,” her boss nodded. He was fully up to speed with the massacres the elephant had committed in the short time since it had been stolen from its mahout.

“Yes. Rahul has sworn to kill the elephant. He presents a different face to us all, like many politicians.” She caught herself before saying all politicians—her boss was one, after all. “He also saved my life from the bandits. In the past, I believe he was a poacher or a hunter. He certainly knows how to handle weapons.”

“Hmmmm,” her boss murmured, clearly unconvinced.

“Okay, look, you always told me to keep my enemies close. If Crybaby shows up here without us around to stop him, Rahul will kill it without blinking and think of a justification later. He’ll have the whole village to back him up. If he’s with us, we can keep an eye on him—and maybe even send him away at the critical moment, split him off until we have Crybaby tranquilized and tied up.”

“Raj I can understand,” her boss replied. “He’s on the payroll. But we wouldn’t normally let the mayor of a village under attack leave, would we? Isn’t he more useful here?”

“I honestly don’t think so. He has the elders in the palm of his hand, and the people too. If he stays here, he could do something even crazier than building that tower. Half the village works in the quarry, and they brought him dynamite, remember? Trust me,” she added firmly, “I can handle him.”

“Okay,” Mahesh shrugged. “It’s your expedition. When do you plan on setting off?”

“Tomorrow,” she had replied. “When the kumkis are ready and the sky is clear for the drones.”

Ahanna glanced around her. The time was approaching fast.

The final hunt for Crybaby was about to begin.

The End of Crybaby Part 2

END OF CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

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