“Have you ever heard of the Tsavo lions? It’s possible that you have; they’re known as the ‘man-eaters’, famous for attacking workers during the construction of the railway in Kenya in the late 19th century.” I folded the newspaper as the train whistle blew, indicating my train was pulling into the station.
You might recall another account of mine, something involving a ‘polar bear.’ Well, after that ordeal and the rescue (along with some well-deserved vacation), I had to return to my profession as a wildlife researcher. As you might imagine from my introduction, this time my destination was the vastness of the African savanna, in the heart of Kenya. I was given a delicate task, not exactly a research endeavor; I was to assist in resolving a serious problem: investigating the sudden disappearance of children from villages near a nature reserve. What made the case even more intriguing was the fact that animal tracks were found where the children had vanished.
With my backpack filled with research equipment and a mix of anxiety and determination in my chest, I stepped off my carriage, my eyes scanning for my contact in the country. The scorching sun beat down mercilessly on the golden expanse of the landscape, and the air shimmered with heat. The old wooden station creaked with the footsteps of other researchers, villagers heading into town, and a few missionary groups.
A man approached me, his face weathered by the sun and age, but his eyes still gleaming with an intensity that spoke of experience and wisdom. Around his waist, some kind of hide was wrapped. He looked me up and down and said:
“You must be the Doctor, right?” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Barasa, chief of the tribe that contacted you!” he tapped his chest.
“Yes, though I’m not exactly a doctor….” I replied, shaking the man’s hand. “Anyway, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Barasa; I believe we should hasten to advance the investigation.”
Barasa nodded, his serious gaze reflecting the gravity and urgency. He then led me to an old red pickup truck, marked by a thick layer of dry, dusty grime, where we set off together toward the nature reserve. The path was steep and rocky. The poor condition of the vehicle made me jump at every small obstacle in the road, even with the seatbelt fastened. During the journey, Barasa explained more details about the disappearances.
“In recent months, several children have mysteriously disappeared from our village… and from others too,” he began, his tone heavy with concern. “We, the tribe, initially suspected wild animals, but something’s not right. The tracks we found are confusing, not like any animal we know.”
As the old man spoke, my gaze wandered over the arid and wild landscape stretching around us. There was something unsettling in the atmosphere, something that made me feel as though we were being watched. The yellowed and sparse vegetation covered certain points, and in the distance, I could see a pond where zebras drank water peacefully, their stripes standing out against the backdrop of the savanna. However, the calm scene couldn’t completely dispel the sense of tension, especially when a crocodile leaped from the waters and snapped up a zebra next to its foal. It fatally dragged it under, leaving the little one alone, abandoned by the herd that fled with the commotion.
When you work with wild animals for so long, you develop a certain tolerance. But I confess it still bothers me; sometimes you forget how cruel nature can be. I shook my head to dispel those dark thoughts and refocused on the conversation with Barasa.
“That is indeed disturbing,” I murmured, trying to keep calm. “Do you have any theories about what could be causing these disappearances?”
He remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the road ahead as he pondered my words. Finally, he spoke in a grave tone:
“Some of our legends speak of a creature known as ‘the ghost of the savanna’,” he explained, his voice tinged with a mixture of fear and respect. “Some believe it has become a threat to the local inhabitants, a shadow that lurks and feeds on the flesh of those who venture too far from their villages.” He turned to me and locked eyes with me. “But you, white men, don’t seem to believe in that, nor do you respect the spirits.”
Shivers ran down my spine as I listened to Barasa’s ominous words.
“I… well, I’d say I’m much more inclined to believe in something, at least compared to how I was, and… wait, did you say ‘you guys’?”
“Yes, that investigator, forest ranger… what was his name again? Benjamin.”
“Benjamin? Ah, you’re referring to forest ranger Benjamin Wright,” I replied, trying to recall the reports I had read about his work in the region. “Yes, he was tasked with investigating some strange occurrences around here a few years ago. I didn’t know he was still around; as far as I know, he didn’t find anything concrete to explain the disappearances.”
Barasa nodded grimly, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly until his knuckles turned white.
“He found nothing because he wasn’t willing to believe in what he couldn’t explain,” Barasa said bitterly. “But I know the ghost was there… And I know if you’re honest, you’ll see it too.”
I swallowed hard, feeling a chill run down my spine. The determination in the elder’s eyes left no room for doubt; he was convinced that something terrible was happening on the savanna and defied any rational explanation.
As we progressed along the dusty road, the sun began to set on the horizon, painting the sky with shades of red and orange. The air grew cooler, and a sense of unease spread through the atmosphere. Then, suddenly, we heard a thunderous roar echoing across the landscape, causing my heart to skip a beat.
“What was that?!” I exclaimed, my pulse racing with fear.
“That’s the ghost,” His head tilted slowly, his widened eyes meeting mine before he burst into laughter. “Come on, Doctor, don’t they teach you about lions in college? It’s just a family of them living around here.”
His laughter wasn’t enough to ease my nerves. I could swear the roar wasn’t ordinary; it was unlike any lion sound I’d heard before. I shook my head, trying to trust the old man’s experience.
“Ah, of course, lions… It’s just… well, part of my job to be cautious, you know?” I tried to explain, forcing a smile that probably looked as fake as I felt.
He only nodded, his serious expression returning as we continued toward the nature reserve. The sun sank further into the horizon, leaving behind a landscape shrouded in shadows. I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were entering unknown territory. As we traveled along the dusty dirt road, the shadows lengthened, turning solitary trees into menacingly human-like silhouettes and creating fleeting illusions that danced on the edge of our peripheral vision. I forced myself to focus on the road ahead, ignoring the shivers running down my spine, until our car trembled…
Barasa’s words died in my ears as the vehicle shook violently. The sound of twisted metal echoed in the air as the rear tire burst, causing the truck to slide off the road and come to an abrupt stop, narrowly missing a huge rock. My body was thrown forward with the impact, my seatbelt the only thing preventing me from colliding with the dashboard.
Gasping, I recovered from the shock and looked around, trying to assess the situation. Barasa was as stunned as I was beside me, but he seemed unharmed. However, the same couldn’t be said for the vehicle, its rear crumpled and the front scraped against the rock. The sun had completely set, plunging us into the darkness of the wild night.
“Are we okay, Barasa?” I asked, trying to stay calm as I struggled to open the window. The warm night air enveloped my body, and I was greeted by the pungent smell of dry vegetation and moist earth.
“I think so, but what-“
He fell silent.
“What is it, Bara-“ He covered my mouth.
I began to hear, subtly, heavy breathing from the back of the car, behind us. It sounded like something heavy was slowly approaching. My heart pounded in my chest as I looked to Barasa, his widened eyes reflecting the same fear I felt. The sound of the breathing grew louder, almost deafening in the stillness of the night.
With slow, cautious movements, I turned to look out the rear window. What I saw sent chills down my spine. It was absolute darkness. Nothingness. Emptiness. And if that hadn’t disturbed me enough, what followed tripled the problem: two bright points, together, moving back and forth.
My breath caught in my throat as I watched the glowing eyes in the darkness, moving as if they were watching us closely, waiting for the right moment to act. The sensation of being hunted flooded my body, paralyzing me with fear.
“What… what is that?” I whispered to Barasa, my words barely audible over the frantic pounding of my heart. “Did that thing attack the car?”
He shook his head slowly, his eyes fixed on the glowing points beyond the window. “I don’t know, but we’re in great danger, Doctor…”
The sounds grew deeper, and the unseen creature moved backward, beyond our field of vision. We waited for what felt like eternity, trying to hear its footsteps and its breathing. I decided to risk peeking again, and I saw nothing but the comforting void, now.
“Alright, Doctor, let’s try to call -“ Barasa’s voice trembled as we were shaken once more. I felt the pressure on the back of the car again, this time stronger. “That thing is standing up! On the back of the car!”
My mouth opened in horror, in a soundless scream, as my brain processed Barasa’s words. Without hesitation, I grabbed my backpack and reached for the satellite phone they had given me. My hands shook as I frantically tuned in to the channel to talk to the village, desperately hoping for a response from the other end of the line.
Meanwhile, the sounds of movement in the back of the car continued, growing increasingly intense and eerie. The metal groaned and creaked under the weight of the unknown creature, while my mind raced trying to imagine what could be pursuing us. It was when the rear window began to crack that we heard a loud snap echoing through the night, causing birds and small animals to scatter. The sound was followed by two bright headlights, followed by others, two cars, and on top of the first one, coming out through the sunroof, was the upper half of Benjamin Wright, holding his rifle. He fired again in the direction of that thing, and we felt the weight lift off the car, as heavy steps faded into the darkness.
I trembled uncontrollably, my body tense and my mind in turmoil as I tried to process what had just happened. Wright was there, like an unexpected savior emerging from the shadows, and yet, his presence only deepened the mystery. Barasa and I exchanged glances, relief mixed with confusion etched on our faces. How did he know we were in danger? So many questions swirled in my mind, but before I could articulate any of them, Benjamin’s raspy Australian-accented voice cut through the silence of the night.
“Are you both okay in there?” His voice sounded distorted, laden with tension and concern. “We need to get out of here immediately.”
“Yes, we’re okay!” I replied, my voice trembling with tension. “What… what was that? What’s happening here?”
“I really have no idea, but it’s better not to stick around. Quick, no time for detailed explanations,” Benjamin replied swiftly, his voice sounding more urgent than ever. “We need to get to the village as fast as possible.”
With my heart still pounding erratically, I turned to Barasa, whose face was pale and tense, reflecting the same anguish I felt. Without exchanging a word, we both silently agreed to follow Benjamin’s instructions and leave that cursed place behind as quickly as possible. As the truck’s engine roared back to life and we began to move away from the scene of our horrific encounter, I felt enveloped by a simultaneous sense of relief and desperation. We were alive, yes, but the threat looming over us was all too real to ignore. As the vehicle sped along the dusty road and the darkness of the African night enveloped us like a cloak, I knew this experience was far from over.
The narrow road wound its way into the savanna. Every sound, every shadow, made my heart beat faster, and I struggled to control my rapid breathing. The journey to the village seemed endless, every turn of the road an opportunity for fear to take root deeper in my mind. I could feel unseen eyes watching us, feel the weight of the sinister presence still following us, even when we couldn’t see it. I was definitely paranoid. Was this how the first conscious man felt? Did our ancestors have to deal with this constant fear?
My mind wandered through local stories and legends, each one darker than the last. The ghost of the savanna, that mysterious creature Barasa had mentioned, seemed now more real than ever. What if it was true? What if we weren’t just dealing with wild animals?
These thoughts haunted my mind as we reached the village, where we were greeted with a mixture of relief and anxiety. People crowded around us, their tired and worried faces reflecting the general concern that hung over the community. I could feel the palpable fear in the air, as tangible as the smell of smoke from the fires that illuminated the darkness of the night.
Benjamin led the way, his hardened face seemingly devoid of fear, a curved scar from his chin to his ear. He seemed willing to go back into the dark night to catch the thing himself, but he wouldn’t do it out of refusal from others. And as he quickly conversed with the village elders, I wondered what he might know, or hide, from us.
The night passed in a blur of frantic activity as the villagers prepared to defend themselves against the unknown threat lurking in the shadows. Traps were set, torches were lit, and children were kept safe inside mud huts, away from the imminent danger lurking outside. The night stretched on, endless, as we waited for the dawn that would bring with it the promise of safety. It was in this panic that, inside Barasa’s house, leaning against a straw mat and watching the smoldering remnants of the fire escape through the roof, I fell asleep. After a myriad of dreams, I finally woke with a start. The dim light of dawn seeped through the cracks in the mud walls of the hut, revealing Barasa’s huddled figure, sleeping beside me in a restless state.
I rose slowly, feeling exhausted and disoriented, as I tried to shake off the remnants of the nightmare still echoing in my mind. The smell of smoke still hung in the air, mingling with the scent of damp earth and the distant sound of villagers preparing outside. With a tired sigh, I stepped off the straw mat and approached the door of the hut, pushing it open carefully to create a gap through which I could peer out into the world beyond. The sun was beginning to rise on the distant horizon, tinting the sky with golden and rosy hues, as the savanna came to life around it.
A dim morning light revealed a serene and tranquil landscape, completely different from the sinister atmosphere of the previous night. However, even under the rising sun, I couldn’t completely shake off the feeling that something terrible was still lurking in the shadows of the savanna.
As I watched the village come alive with morning activity, my thoughts turned to the events of the previous night. The encounter with that unknown creature, the glowing eyes in the darkness, the panic that had spread through the community… It all seemed surreal, like it was part of a nightmare from which I couldn’t wake.
Lost in my thoughts, a gentle hand landed on my shoulder, making me jump in surprise. I turned quickly to find Barasa’s concerned eyes staring at me.
“Are you okay, Doctor?” He asked, his voice laden with genuine concern.
I nodded, forcing a weak smile. “Yes, I’m fine. Just… reflecting on everything that happened.”
He nodded understandingly, his gaze reflecting his own confusion and apprehension. “I know how you feel. Last night was… difficult for all of us…” he paused for a long moment “Benjamin wants to speak with you, he has some information, something like that, he didn’t exactly say what it was.”
“I see. Thank you for letting me know, Barasa,” I replied, struggling to keep my voice calm and controlled, the memories of last night coming back even stronger now. “I’ll go to him immediately.”
With a nod of his head, Barasa stepped away, leaving me alone with my tumultuous thoughts. I wondered what Benjamin had to say, as so far his progress had been nil.
I made my way through the village to the hut where Benjamin was staying. As I approached, I could see the tall, imposing figure of the ranger standing outside, surveying the surrounding landscape with a serious and focused expression, as if keeping watch, looking back and forth.
“Benjamin,” I called out as I got close enough to be heard.
He turned to face me, his stern face relaxing into a brief smile. “Ah, Doctor, good morning. How are you feeling after last night?”
“A bit shaken, but I’m okay,” I replied honestly. “By the way, in the rush I couldn’t properly greet you. How’s old Benjamin Wright?”
He chuckled briefly, but there was an underlying tension in his expression that didn’t escape my notice. “Ah, old Benjamin is doing fine, considering the circumstances. But let’s get straight to the point, I have some information that I think you’ll want to hear.”
I nodded and approached him.
“Well,” he began, “We have an interesting pattern that was found at the place where the children disappeared: strange footprints,” he explained, his deep voice tinged with a tone of mystery. “They are larger than those of the animals that live in this region and they seem… different, somehow.”
“Different how?”
“It’s like the paw of a big predator, a feline, but larger, a bit irregular at the edges… And yes, it was the thing that attacked you all yesterday.”
“The ghost of the savanna?” The words spilled out of me like a fountain, automatically.
Benjamin let out a long laugh.
“Doctor, are you sure you haven’t caught a sunstroke? Don’t let Barasa poison your mind with these things, I’m sure we’re dealing with something perfectly natural.”
I felt a little embarrassed by Benjamin’s laughter. But if those strange footprints really indicated the presence of an unknown creature, then why was he so determined to dismiss the idea of the “ghost of the savanna”?
“I understand it may seem absurd, but… what exactly do you think we’re dealing with here?” I asked, my voice laden with skepticism.
He leaned forward, his serious gaze with a slight hint of excitement. “I think we’re dealing with a big feline, maybe a lion or a panther, that’s causing trouble in the region,” he explained. “It may be an unusual specimen, larger than usual, but there’s nothing supernatural about it, just an animal trying to survive in an increasingly threatening environment.” He turned, looking at the horizon “And just thinking about a creature of that size roaming around, a super predator, already excites me to think that I can put it on my wall, framed.”
I nodded, trying to process Benjamin’s explanation. It was hard to ignore the evidence of his theory, but at the same time, something didn’t quite fit. A small voice in the back of my mind insisted that something was off.
“I understand,” I murmured, my mind still undecided. “But what about the children’s disappearances? Does this theory explain that as well?”
Benjamin seemed to consider my question for a moment before responding. “It’s hard to say for sure, but it’s possible that the animal in question has been forced to hunt different prey than usual due to the pressure exerted on its territory,” he suggested. “Perhaps the children became easy targets amidst the chaos.”
His explanation made sense to a certain extent.
“Anyway, let’s continue investigating,” he said, grabbing some items from the back of his jeep. “Here, let’s spread these traps around the area,” he said while holding his bulging bag. “Take these cameras and come with me,” he pointed to two cases still in the car.
I nodded, agreeing with his words. Although I was willing to consider the possibility that what we were facing was just a big predator, a part of me still remained skeptical, and trying to capture at least one image of it could either reassure me or perhaps terrify me even more.
We moved in silence, the sounds of nature around us seeming amplified, noisy birds, distant monkeys, sometimes we encountered herds of herbivores walking peacefully. We placed the traps in strategic locations, with some fresh meat baits, hoping to lure the beast into a hole dug in the ground. The cameras were carefully set up, aimed at areas where the children had disappeared, some hidden in trees, activating their motion sensors.
As we worked, a sense of unease continued to grow within me, as if we were being watched by something… the same bitter taste of last night came to my mouth. I struggled to ignore this feeling, focusing my attention on the work we had before us.
“I hope this gives us some clue about what we’re dealing with, with all due respect but doing this work in this heat sucks,” I muttered to Benjamin as I adjusted one of the cameras.
He agreed, his expression still serious as he looked around, as if searching for something. He was feeling it too…
“Let’s head back to the village, we have enough,” he finally said, his voice laden. “Let’s inform the elders and see if there’s anything else to be done. Otherwise, all we can do is wait.”
I agreed, feeling relieved at the thought of returning to the relative safety of the village. Nature, as always majestic and a place of countless dangers, especially when facing an unknown threat. The journey back to the village was silent, our thoughts immersed in speculation about what might be happening in that remote place. The sun had already passed its peak when we finally arrived at the community, where we were greeted by a crowd of anxious villagers waiting for news from us.
The elders gathered around us, their faces serious and worried reflecting the gravity of the situation we found ourselves in. I struggled to find a way to explain what we had discovered, but every explanation seemed to fall short of what was truly needed.
“We found some evidence suggesting that we’re dealing with a big predator in the area,” I explained, trying to choose my words carefully. “We’ve set up traps and cameras in the hope of capturing any sign of the creature, but we’re still not sure what we’re dealing with.”
The elders listened attentively, their faces trembling as they processed the information we provided. It was evident that they were concerned, but they also didn’t want to stand idly by in the face of the threat.
“What should we do?” One of the elders asked, his voice laden with anxiety. “How can we protect our children?”
Benjamin and I exchanged glances. There were no easy answers, no clear plan of action to deal with the unknown.
“We’ll continue monitoring the area,” Benjamin began, his authoritative voice faltering slightly. “We’ll keep an eye on the cameras and traps until we have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”
The elders nodded and exchanged glances, saying a few words in their own dialect. It wasn’t clear if they truly trusted Benjamin.
“In the meantime, keep your children close to home and avoid traveling alone through the savanna,” he continued. “We’ll do everything in our power to protect our community and find a solution to this problem, I promise you.”
As the sun set on the distant horizon, casting a golden light over the vast and wild landscape around us, I knew that the work was only just beginning…
The atmosphere in the village was tense, charged; there were no festivities or singing around the bonfire, as Barasa told me there were. As the night progressed, the only thing the villagers did was retire to their homes, staying alert for any sign of imminent danger. I found myself quickly wandering the deserted exterior, soon captured by fear. As I passed by the thatched houses illuminated by the dim glow of torches, I could feel the anxious looks of the residents, all of them sharing the same silent concern.
I decided to retreat back into the chief’s house, where the warmth of the crackling fire offered some comfort against the serene cold. I sat in silence, lost in my own thoughts, while Barasa tended to the flames and blew on the embers.
“Barasa, what do you think we’re up against?” I asked, finally breaking the tense silence.
He turned to me, his face marked by concern. “Doctor, I don’t know what to think,” he admitted, giving a slight smile. “Our last encounter last night left me with many doubts; the people of the village only talk about the ‘ghost of the savannah.’”
A shiver ran down my spine at his words. “But what about you, Barasa? What do you believe?”
He sighed deeply.
His silence served as an answer.
“I just know that we need to protect ourselves,” he continued, his voice firm, looking towards the corner of the hut where his young son, Banthu, slept soundly. “I won’t let anything harm any other member of our tribe…”
A knock on the door made us both jump, interrupting our conversation. Barasa quickly got up and went to check who was outside, while I remained tense, my heart racing. What on earth was so urgent?
Barasa opened the door and stepped back, his face assuming an expression of surprise mixed with haste. Outside stood Benjamin, finishing adjusting his boot, his rifle on his back.
He didn’t enter the hut. He stayed outside with a grave air. “We don’t have time, follow me,” he said, his deep voice echoing in the tense silence of the hut.
Barasa and I exchanged glances.
“What happened?” I asked, my voice laden with anxiety.
He was already turning away, and without turning back, he just stopped and said:
“It looks like he took the bait, let’s go before it escapes.”
We followed Benjamin out of the hut, hurriedly. As we walked through the village, I felt a sense of apprehension. An owl sang deep and solemn, making a trail accompanied by distant jackal choruses as we walked. We followed in silence, with Benjamin leading the way through a narrow path in the bush, tall grass brushing and irritating my leg as I chastised myself for forgetting to wear my high boots.
As we approached the traps and cameras we had installed in the savannah, I could feel my anxiety rising. Finally, we arrived at the spot where we had placed one of the traps. Benjamin stopped abruptly, silently indicating for us to hide behind some nearby trees.
“Look,” he whispered, pointing to one of the cameras that was facing the indistinguishable darkness of the night.
My heart skipped a beat when I saw the image on the screen. It was undeniably the largest lion I had ever seen, at least personally. It was making those deep sounds, almost a purring, as it stood up, trying to reach the hanging meat. The trap hole was not hidden, but exposed, with the layer of leaves scattered all around. I felt that something was wrong, but not like the other night, it wasn’t quite fear, just… there was something very wrong.
“He’s not going to fall now that he can see the hole,” Benjamin cursed as he pulled the gun from his back. He pointed it at the creature. “Now let’s finish this.”
“NO, WAIT!” I shouted, finally understanding what was wrong, throwing myself onto him to prevent the shot from being fired.
The animal ran as soon as I shouted, fleeing to wherever it was going.
“What the hell was that, Doctor? Do I have to ask again if the sun fried your brains?” Benjamin said, visibly red even in the darkness.
I took a deep breath, trying to control my breathing. “Look, I’m sorry, but… that’s not the beast we’re looking for.”
“How is it not?” he bellowed.
“Think about it, it just ran off when I yelled. Our monster is cautious, but not afraid of humans.”
Barasa seemed to agree.
“And furthermore: why was the animal so easily visible? Why was the trap uncovered? It seems like someone may have manipulated the situation…”
Benjamin frowned, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Are you suggesting someone’s behind this? Why would someone do that?”
I shook my head, unable to provide a clear answer. “I don’t know, but something’s not right. We need to be careful and not act hastily-“
A beep sounded from Benjamin’s device. He stopped, looked, and as soon as his eyes met the image on the screen, he froze. I never thought I’d see him like that. For a few seconds, I could swear he didn’t breathe.
“What’s wrong, man, speak up!” Barasa pressed him.
He turned to us, showing this image: a huge lion, on the camera that was at the camp’s door. Its fur was completely white. I don’t know if the picture can convey its size, but believe me: we don’t have a lion of this size registered! We were petrified until we heard, closer and louder than we expected, a hoarse and animalistic roar, the roar that caused my nightmares, and beyond it, all we heard were Barasa’s few words:
“The Ghost of the Savannah…”