“Stop! Stop! Please stop! Oh my God, Lions!”

“Bwana, simba tracks!” Makali shouts, pointing to the ground just outside his window.

“Blood, Charles! In front of truck. Much blood.” Benjamin yells.

“Look! A long trail of blood. Something was dragged into the barn, ” Myles exclaims, reaching for his gun.

“Get out slowly guys. Watch your backs. Benjamin, dart rifle?”

“Yes, got it.”

“Bwana, someone coming from house!” Benga announces.

Opening my door, I shout at the lady as she steps off the front porch, “Get back inside … Lions!”

“Robert! Where’s my Robert? Is he alright?” she screams.

“Don’t know. Get back inside. Please. Now! Now!” I scream back, motioning with my left hand.

The silence is shattered by close, blood curdling roar.

“Bwana, eyes!” Makali yells, pointing to the right edge of the lights.

From ten yards, I see the glow of four, no, six eyes from the shadows. Myles turns the wheel sharply to the right bringing the

lions into the light and throws on the brakes. Instantly it is clear that whatever (or whoever – I’m guessing, her Robert) was

dragged into the barn is not alive. The remains of the victim lay before us in at least three or four pieces. I hear the back left

door open. Two quick shots by Benjamin with the dart rifle.



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