Man-Eater
A man walked alone through the Amazon Basin. He was a conservationist and had dedicated his entire life to protecting endangered wildlife. But at fifty-six years old, his body was beginning to slow down. Before retiring, there was one thing he wanted to see one last time: the endangered Amazon river dolphin in its natural habitat.
He had been trekking through the jungle all day, and night was quickly approaching. Exhausted, he sat on an old rotten log and began setting up his tent near the riverbank. Mosquitoes already swarmed around him in thick clouds, so he decided to build a small fire to keep them away during the night.
He pulled out a flint and steel and worked patiently until sparks caught the kindling. A small flame flickered to life. He fed it carefully, watching it grow brighter against the darkness of the jungle.
Once the fire was stable, he unpacked an MRE and activated the chemical heater. Steam rose from the bag as the meal warmed. He smiled tiredly, licking his lips in anticipation of the ravioli. After mixing in hot sauce, he ate slowly while listening to the sounds of the rainforest around him.
For the first time all day, he felt content.
After finishing his meal, he crawled into his tent and unbuckled his gear. He needed a good night’s rest before continuing his exploration in the morning.
Hours later, he awoke suddenly to a low, rumbling growl.
His eyes snapped open.
Another growl echoed from outside the tent—deeper this time.
Dangerous.
Slowly, he unzipped the tent and peeked outside.
A massive jaguar stood near the edge of the campfire’s light.
The animal moved silently toward him, its golden eyes fixed on his face.
He immediately stood tall and shouted, trying to scare it away. But the jaguar didn’t flinch.
Instead, it kept coming.
The man grabbed a burning branch from the fire and waved it in front of him. The jaguar growled and swatted at the air. He thrust the flaming stick closer to its face.
Now he could smell its horrible breath.
Still, the jaguar refused to back down.
Fear surged through him. Acting on instinct, he swung the flaming branch and struck the animal across the muzzle. The jaguar snarled violently as the fur around its face singed from the heat.
For a moment, the two stared at each other.
Then the jaguar slowly backed away into the darkness.
But before disappearing into the jungle, it stopped.
It looked back at him one last time and roared.
The man suddenly understood something horrifying.
He was being hunted.
The rest of the night was miserable.
He threw every remaining piece of firewood onto the flames, desperate to keep the blaze alive until sunrise. Even then, he barely slept.
Before dawn, he packed his gear quickly. He wanted to get as far away from the jaguar’s territory as possible.
For hours he hiked through the basin, sweat soaking through his clothes as the jungle closed around him. By midday he estimated he had traveled nearly six miles.
Finally, he allowed himself to relax.
Maybe the jaguar had given up and he was far enough away from its territory.
He stopped beside the river to eat breakfast and recover some energy. Afterwards, he pulled out his camera and prepared to photograph the wildlife.
He waited patiently beside the muddy water.
A small caiman drifted through the river nearby before suddenly diving beneath the surface, as if startled by something below.
Then he saw them.
Two adult Amazon river dolphins emerged from the cloudy water, their gray bodies tinted faint pink beneath the sunlight. Between them swam a calf.
The man’s heart nearly stopped with joy.
After weeks of searching, he had finally found them.
And they had a healthy calf.
With shaking hands, he lifted the camera and began taking photograph after photograph. He became so focused on the dolphins that he stopped paying attention to the jungle behind him.
A growl erupted only feet away.
He turned slowly.
The jaguar stood directly behind him.
Its eyes burned with hatred.
Before he could react, the animal lunged.
Both of them crashed into the river.
Murky water swallowed him whole. He thrashed violently as the jaguar clamped its jaws around his arm, ripping and tearing through flesh.
He screamed underwater, but only bubbles escaped his mouth.
The jaguar was trying to drown him.
His lungs burned. His strength faded. Darkness crept into the edges of his vision.
Desperate, he grabbed the camera hanging around his neck and smashed it against the jaguar’s face. The flash exploded underwater.
The jaguar recoiled slightly—but it refused to let go.
Summoning the last of his strength, the man jammed his thumb deep into the animal’s eye.
The jaguar jerked back violently, tearing a chunk from his arm before finally releasing him. Growling in pain, it swam to shore and disappeared into the jungle once more.
The man crawled from the river coughing violently, water pouring from his lungs.
Blood streamed down his ruined arm.
He knew he would die if he didn’t stop the bleeding.
Using his knife, he cut a long strip from his shirt and wrapped it tightly around the wound. He shoved a stick beneath the fabric and twisted until the tourniquet tightened.
Agony exploded through his body.
But eventually the bleeding slowed.
Barely able to stand, he stared into the jungle.
Somewhere out there, the jaguar was still watching him.
He knew there was a small village several miles away.
If he could reach it, maybe he could survive.
So he started walking.
Wet. Bloody. Exhausted.
Hours passed beneath the crushing jungle heat. Several times he heard movement in the trees beside him.
The jaguar was still following.
Keeping its distance.
Waiting.
The man collapsed to his knees repeatedly, but every time he forced himself back up. He grabbed vines and branches to pull himself forward.
Eventually he noticed something wrong with his arm.
The flesh around the bite had turned a deep raspberry red.
Infection.
He tried to ignore it and kept moving.
But after several more miles, the skin began turning black.
Sepsis was setting in.
Soon he could barely think clearly. Fever consumed him. His head pounded. His body felt freezing cold despite the humid jungle air.
A few trees away, the jaguar watched him silently.
It knew he was dying. Just waiting for him to be weak enough to not fight back.
Night began to fall.
The man staggered forward, barely able to lift his feet anymore. Then suddenly he smelled smoke.
A village.
Hope surged through him.
The jaguar crept closer between the trees.
The man tried to shout for help, but his voice came out weak and broken.
Using the last of his strength, he stumbled into a run.
For a brief moment adrenaline made him feel light again.
He was so close.
Then something slammed into his back.
The jaguar.
Its claws buried deep into his flesh as both crashed to the ground.
The man screamed as the animal raked its claws across his face. He tried to reach for its eyes again, but the jaguar caught his hand in its jaws.
His hand crushed.
The man couldn’t fight anymore.
He was too weak. Too sick. Too exhausted.
Slowly, the jaguar moved its jaws toward his neck.
Then it bit down.
The man stopped resisting.
He could feel his life draining away with every fading breath. His vision darkened as the pressure around his throat tightened harder and harder.
His face turned purple.
And finally…
He relaxed.
Days later, searchers found the man’s camera near the river basin.
Inside were hundreds of beautiful photographs—birds, trees, sunsets, and finally the rare river dolphins swimming peacefully with their calf.
There were also several older pictures of the man smiling beside his two sons.
But investigators were disturbed most by the final image stored on the camera.
A blurred photograph accidentally taken during the attack
It was Staring at him with blood thirsty eyes wide open.