The jeep rumbled and bounced as it traversed the property, churning up dust as the two passengers in the back surveyed their surroundings.
There were three zebras, what appeared to be a very young giraffe, and enough desert-like flora to give them the illusion they were in Africa instead of the Chihuahuan Desert of west Texas. That was the whole idea behind Briscoe’s Trophy Hunt Adventure, run by its namesake – Emery Briscoe.
“What do you boys think?” shouted Briscoe, looking back and smiling at his guests. “I guaran-damn-tee you two are gonna get your money’s worth. Guaran-damn-tee it.”
Ah, yes, money.
Trophy hunts weren’t cheap, and Briscoe’s Trophy Hunt Adventure was quite specialized. It was so specialized, in fact, that it was not just extremely expensive for those willing to pay enough, but also extremely illegal. While “game ranches” – places where animals are held captive – had sprouted up all over the United States, this one provided some off-the-books action. But what’s a little malfeasance among the rich?
And the gentlemen on this particular trip had money to burn and were hunting for an endangered Javan rhino – one of less than 80 in the world.
Briscoe abruptly stopped the jeep after spying it just a few hundred feet away.
“I could tell you how I got that bull – that’s what they call the males – but then I’d have to kill you,” he said with a laugh. “Ain’t too many of ‘em left, so I paid a pretty penny to bring him over from Indonesia. And thanks to your generosity, you’ll be able to have a nice rhino head for your living room, and I can get something special for the next big-game hunters that come my way.
“I’ve been trying for years to get one of them Tapanuli orangutans. Be a lot easier to bring down that a rhino, I can tell you that much.”
As the three men walked closer to the rhino, it was obvious that the animal had been drugged. It was laying on the ground with its head lilting to the left.
“Now, in a normal situation,” Briscoe explained, “you wouldn’t be able to get anywhere near this close to a rhinoceros. But we made sure to … well … let’s just say we made him real calm for you. Thanks to several shots with a tranquilizer gun, we’ve done a lot of the work for you. Now which one of you wants to take the first shot? Or, I guess you can both shoot him at the same time.
“Don’t make a bit of difference to me.”
The men jumped off the jeep and swiftly moved toward the rhino. The first pulled out what appeared to be a large laser pointer and carefully traced the silhouette of the creature with it.
The second had something that looked to be more of a high-tech bazooka than an automatic rifle.
“You’ll blow him to bits with that thing,” Briscoe said. “But however you wanna get your jollies is fine by me.”
The man took aim and fired at the rhino, but instead of a bullet there was a pulse of white light that engulfed the animal.
Seconds later, it had completely disappeared.
“What the hell happened?” Briscoe asked. “What did you just do? Are ya’ll some kind of magicians, or what?”
The “shooter” looked at Briscoe with disdain.
“We teleported the Rhinocerotidae being to our home, Gliese 667Cc,” he said. “In your world we would be called conservationists. Humans like you are not only incapable of protecting these life forms, you are actively destroying them. We’re seizing them for their protection – as well as well as their salvation.
“Before the day is done, all of the animals here will be transported. In fact, most of the animals on this doomed planet will be transported.”
Briscoe’s eyes widened.
“Wait a minute … so you two are trying to tell me you’re do-gooders from outer space, huh,” he said, chuckling nervously. “At least that’s what you expect me believe. Ain’t that a kick in the head. Don’t matter to me, though. You paid up front. And long after you’re done havin’ your fun here, I’ll still be in business.
“As long as there are trophies, there’ll be people hunting for trophies. Doomed planet, my ass …”
The travelers from Gliese 667Cc looked at each other, with one drawing a circle on the ground with his laser. They stepped inside and just as had happened with the rhino, they disappeared in a flash of white light.
Briscoe climbed into his jeep, cranked it up, and headed back toward the lodge – rattled and unsure if what had just happened was real or some fever dream.
Yet, as he glanced around and peered through the dust, he noticed that all the animals in the preserve were, indeed, gone.
He couldn’t say for certain what had happened to them, but they were no longer part of Briscoe’s Trophy Hunt Adventure. Most important of all, they were safe from the extinction-level asteroid hurtling toward Earth.