PREDATOR
PROLOGUE
CARA
“Cara,” Dad calls out to me, “do you have the blanket?”
“Yes, Daddy.” I pull the blanket out of the car and set off after my parents. Unlike most teens, I love being with mine. We have a great relationship. I know I can talk to them about anything. It’s just always been that way with us.
Dad starts the boat motor and then he steers us down the river. It’s a sunny day with a light breeze to cool the worst of the heat. We always come out here after lunch. This is our family time together. Once we get to the wide open space of the dam, dad starts to slow the boat down.
I spread the blanket open and laugh happily as Mom and I lie down, trying to get comfy. Dad kills the motor when he’s satisfied with the spot we’re in, and then he comes to lie down on my other side.
“Look at that one,” Dad says, pointing to a cloud. “It looks like a car.”
I laugh. “Everything looks like a car to you.”
“No, seriously,” he laughs, too, but carries on, “look, those are the wheels, that there is the roof.”
We talk about the silliest of things and then we grow quiet and just listen to the birds chirping all around us. I’m going to miss doing this with my parents, once I’m away at college. I only have a few precious weeks left with them. I drift off, like I always do.
There is a loud crash that yanks me out of my peaceful sleep. I hear my parents scream and my whole body goes instantly cold from shock.
The boat tilts sharply and it tosses my body to the side. I try to claw at the floor, searching for something to grab onto. I slam hard into one of the chairs and it jars my body making a sharp pain shoot through me.
The boat breaks apart with a loud crack, and water swallows the pieces with greedy gulps.
“Daddy! Mommy!” I shout. My eyes dart around, searching for any sign of them, but there is nothing but the boat breaking apart and the awful noise.
What’s left of the boat rises sharply into the air, like a beast gasping its last breath. I start to slide down and grab for the chair, but I’m too late. Something knocks hard into my shoulder, only speeding up my decent into the muddy water.
“Daddy,” I scream as I claw for anything to stop my fall. Splinters of wood stab at me, and then muddy water swallows me.
I know how to swim. I’m a good swimmer, but the color of the water robs me of my breath … it’s red. I struggle to get back to the top and it only makes an ice cold fear spread through my body.
I don’t want to die!
I hear a louder sound. It’s not like the crash. This time it hits at the water, hammering its way closer to me.
The water won’t let me go.
White hot pain slices through me and I swallow water.
I swallow blood.
I wake up to a blinding light and I have to blink a couple of times before the light stops stinging my watering eyes. Confusion crashes through me.
Where am I? I try to say the words, but they come out sounding like a garbled groan.
My eyes dart around the room, and then a sharp pain starts to pulse in my back.
Where are Dad and Mom? What happened?
Shuddering sobs ripple from my chest, making the pain so much worse. Hot tears spill from my eyes, slipping into my hair.
“Cara.” My eyes jump to the voice and I see it’s Uncle Tom, Mommy’s brother. “I’m sorry,” he says, while getting up from the chair.
I frown, not sure what he’s sorry for.
He rubs tiredly over his face and then sighs heavily. “There was an accident. Your parents… they didn’t make it.”
My parents … they’re dead?
NO! My heart squeezes painfully and then a sharp twinge starts to grow in my chest. I suck in an agonizing breath, but the feeling keeps growing until I’m hollowed out and only filled with the loss of my parents. On my next breath, sobs start to tear from my throat.
They can’t be gone! It’s too soon. I didn’t get to say goodbye.
My thoughts start to race and panic sets into my bones. They can’t be dead … not my parents.
The reality of never seeing my parents again hits hard, an ache so deep it shatters me. An empty feeling overwhelms me, something I’ve never felt before. It’s like a wave that washes all my happy memories away, leaving only a harrowing heartbreak behind.
I’m too scared to say a word, and my eyes beg Uncle Tom to tell me different. I keep looking to the door expecting Dad and Mom to come rushing in at any moment.
They’ll make it all better. They’ll take the emptiness away.
“The nursing staff will look after you. Once you can walk you should leave the country.” I look at Uncle Tom, confused at his words.
Why would I leave South Africa? This is my home.
He lifts the mattress right under my butt, and the movement jars my body, sending a wave of pain through my back. I watch as he shoves a thick envelope under the mattress before dropping it down again.
“Keep that envelope safe. It has a new passport and some money in it for you. I’ve arranged a visa for you to go to America, but it’s only valid for three months. I could only get you a temporary one on such short notice. You can’t stay here. Once you’re in America, stick to the small towns and never use your name again. Forget where you come from, or they will find you.”
They? Who are they? Why would people be coming for me? I don’t understand any of this.
I want to scream as a helpless feeling overwhelms me.
Uncle Tom gently caresses my cheek, a sad look giving his face a haggard appearance. “Leave South Africa, Cara. As soon as you can.” He leans over me and places a chaste kiss to my forehead. “Run, Cara. Run far away and never stop!”
I watch him leave and then I’m left alone in the hospital room with only the envelope and a heart filled with sharp pieces of emptiness that are stabbing at my insides with every panicked breath I try to suck in.
For a moment I can only blink and breathe before the reality starts to squeeze at my insides again.
My parents are dead!
I’m alone?
I start to weep, grief-stricken and distressed by all that’s happened to me.
I’m only eighteen. I don’t know what to do. I want my Dad and Mom.
A nurse comes into the room and smiles warmly at me, but I feel none of the warmth. She gives me something and it starts to soothe the pain that’s clawing at my heart.
I know the relief is only temporary, but I welcome the blissful sleep with open arms.