Zenith of Desire: The Hollywood Incubus

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Richard frowned. ”Where are you going?”

”To take a leak.”

”You know there’s about half a kilometre of empty riverbank right here.”

Peter kept walking. ”I’d like a little privacy.”

Richard rolled his eyes. ”Peter, mate...”

He laughed. ”I’ve known you for years. I’m not planning on sneaking a look.”

Peter waved dismissively over one shoulder without turning around.

Richard shook his head and wandered back toward the Land Rover.

Leaning against the bonnet, he reached inside through the open window and picked up the small battery-powered emergency radio he always kept in the vehicle for weather reports and road closures.

He flicked it on.

A burst of static crackled through the speaker before settling into the clipped voice of a newsreader.

*”...We repeat, firefighters have successfully contained the blaze at the Auckland Zoo holding facility. Authorities have confirmed, however, that during the emergency evacuation several transport enclosures were breached.”

Richard frowned.

The announcer continued.

*”Officials say two adult African leopards and a large saltwater crocodile from Western Australia remain unaccounted for. Police and wildlife officers are conducting an extensive search, and members of the public are urged not to approach any dangerous animals if sighted, but to contact emergency services immediately.”

”If anyone in the surrounding rural districts sights any of these animals, contact local authorities immediately. Do not attempt to approach them. Officials warn the escaped animals are likely frightened, unpredictable, and extremely dangerous. Armed wildlife officers have been authorized to destroy them if they pose a threat to public safety.”

Richard stared at the radio. ”...Bloody hell.”

He lowered it slowly, all trace of humor gone from his face. ”Those poor bastards.”

”These damn exotic species,” Richard muttered, the blood draining from his face.

New Zealand was an isolated island nation whose ecosystem had evolved without large land predators—no native bears, wolves, big cats, or venomous snakes. While this made its wilderness feel comparatively safer than many parts of the world, the general public treated the wilderness as safe only if you were prepared.

The thought of apex predators currently roaming loose in the dense, unsuspecting forests unsettled him deeply.

Richard looked toward the dense line of trees where Peter had wandered off.

His stomach tightened. ”Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me...”

He pushed himself away from the Land Rover. ”Peter!”

His voice echoed across the riverbank.

”Peter, stop mucking around and answer me!”

The radio crackled in Richard Taylor’s hand, the broadcaster’s warnings cutting through the hum of the New Zealand bush.

As a native New Zealander, Richard harbored an instinctual unease about exotic predators on the island, even when contained behind reinforced glass and steel. New Zealand was a sanctuary—a safe haven of flightless birds and ancient ferns. The idea of apex predators roaming the Waikato region felt like a violation of nature.

Richard’s mind flashed to the Auckland Zoo incident the year before.

A saltwater crocodile had escaped during a transfer and vanished into a nearby waterway.

It had cornered two Australian tourists on a tiny river island, smashing at their aluminum rowboat until they abandoned it. They’d spent the entire freezing night clinging to tree branches, terrified to climb down.

When wildlife officers finally tracked the crocodile down the next morning, it measured nearly six meters long.

It had been well-fed in captivity. It had lost none of its instinct to hunt.

The story had been all over the news. Richard had hated it. New Zealand wasn’t supposed to have monsters like that.

The emergency broadcast began repeating the hotline number.

Then a scream ripped through the trees.

”AAAAAH! Crocodile! Oh my God! Crocodile!”

The high-pitched, hysterical scream undeniably belonged to Peter Jackson. It echoed from the muddy banks of the nearby river.

Richard’s blood turned to ice. For a split second his brain refused to believe it. The rational part of his brain misfired. ’No... no bloody way.’ he thought, adrenaline spiking.’Please don’t tell me it’s one of the escaped animals...’

Richard sprinted toward the tree line.

”Peter!”

Branches whipped across his face as he crashed through the ferns.

”Peter! This way! Keep yelling!”

He barely had time to finish shouting.

Peter exploded out of the undergrowth.

His flannel shirt hung open, his hair looked even wilder than usual, and every trace of color had drained from his face.

”I don’t want to die!” Peter yelled, stumbling over the uneven ground. ”Richard, run!”

Something huge burst out behind him.

A crocodile.

Nearly four meters long.

Its armored body plowed through the reeds, its tail lashing from side to side.

Its jaws slammed shut barely a foot behind Peter’s boot.

CRACK!

The sound was like a car door being slammed shut.

”Peter!” Richard shouted, waving both arms.

”Stay away from the river! Keep moving!”

Peter either didn’t hear him or couldn’t think.

Pure panic took over.

Instead of following the riverbank toward Richard, he veered sharply into the thicker forest, crashing through saplings without looking back.

Richard’s heart nearly stopped.

Then...

The crocodile reached the tree line.

It hesitated.

Its heavy body struggled against the tangled roots, fallen logs, and steep ground. After a few frustrated snaps of its jaws, the reptile gave up.

With a slow, angry swing of its tail, it turned around and slid back toward the muddy river.

Richard bent over, hands on his knees, dragging in a shaky breath.

”...Bloody hell.” Richard let out a breath, resting his hands on his knees as relief washed over him.

For one brief moment, he thought it was over.

It wasn’t, the nightmare was far from over.

Worried Peter had bolted deeper into the bush, Richard hurried after him, shoving branches out of the way.

”Peter!” he shouted. ”It’s gone! You can stop running!”

Instead of an answer, Peter exploded out of a thicket.

He was running even faster than before.

His face was ghost-white.

”Richard!” he screamed. ”Run! Run!”

”What?”

”There’s a leopard!”

Richard stopped dead. ”A leopard?” he barked. ”Peter, get a grip. You’re seeing things. There’s no bloody—”

The words died in his throat.

Two shapes emerged silently from beneath the trees.

African leopards.

Their golden coats melted into the shifting patches of sunlight, making them almost impossible to track until they moved.

Despite being raised in a zoo, their genetic hunting instincts were fully awakened.

They made no sound. No growls. No warning.

The moment they reached the clearing, they split apart with terrifying precision.

One drifted left.

The other right.

Within seconds, Peter’s path back was cut off.

Richard felt his pulse slam against his ribs.

Think.

His eyes swept the clearing.

A massive kauri tree stood a short distance away, its ancient trunk wrapped in thick vines and rough enough to climb.

”Peter!” Richard roared. ”Tree! Get up the bloody tree! Move!” Richard bellowed, sprinting toward the trunk.

Neither man wasted another second.

They sprinted for the trunk.

Normally they’d have been out of breath after fifty meters.

The two men, famously unfit and carrying the toll of a sedentary Hollywood lifestyle, hit the base of the Kauri with desperate momentum.

Right now, terror made them faster than either had ever been.

Driven by adrenaline, they scrambled up the rough bark. Richard threw himself at the bark, fingers digging into the vines.

Peter was right beside him.

They clawed their way upward, boots slipping, fingernails tearing, bark scraping chunks from their palms.

Neither dared look down.

They climbed until they reached a thick fork in the branches nearly seven meters above the ground.

Both collapsed across the limbs, gasping for air.

Peter finally risked a glance below.

The leopards had arrived.

They circled the base of the tree with slow, deliberate steps.

Their tails twitched lazily.

Their yellow eyes never left the two men.

Peter swallowed hard.

”Richard...” His voice came out as little more than a wheeze. ”Leopards...” He licked his dry lips. ”They can’t climb trees... right?”

Richard shot him an incredulous look. ”How the hell would I know?” He tightened both arms around the branch. ”I build monsters for films, Peter. I don’t bloody study them.”

As if insulted by the question, one of the leopards stopped pacing.

It backed away a few steps.

Its eyes locked onto Peter’s dangling boots.

”Oh...”

Richard whispered. ”...Don’t.”

Dropping its center of gravity, the leopard exploded forward. With terrifying power it sprang onto the trunk. Its claws bit deep into the bark.

It climbed almost vertically.

Fast.

Far too fast.

Peter’s scream echoed through the forest. ”AAAAAH! It’s climbing!”

Peter let out a scream that sounded nothing like a grown man.

His voice cracked into outright panic.

”It’s climbing! Richard!” He yanked both legs onto the branch. ”Do something!”

Richard’s mind went completely blank.

Then instinct took over.

He tore the emergency radio from his belt.

”Get off!”

He hurled it with everything he had.

The radio struck the leopard high on the shoulder before smashing apart against the trunk.

Plastic exploded in every direction.

The leopard barely slowed.

”Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!”

Peter fumbled through his pockets with shaking hands.

Coins.

His mobile phone.

A ring of studio keys.

He threw everything.

The coins bounced off the animal’s face.

The keys clipped one ear.

The bulky phone struck squarely across its nose.

The painful barrage confused the animal.

The leopard hissed in surprise. Its claws slipped. For a heartbeat its balance gave way.

It pushed itself away from the trunk, twisting effortlessly in midair before landing on all fours below.

It stared back up at them, irritated rather than frightened.

Neither man waited to see what it would do next.

”Help!” Richard bellowed at the top of his lungs. ”Somebody!”

Peter joined him immediately.

”Help!”

”Please!”

”Anyone!”

”Help! Help us!” Both men screamed in unison, voices raw, praying a ranger or farmer was within earshot.

Their voices echoed across the valley, carried over the river as both men prayed that somewhere nearby, someone would hear them before the leopards tried again.

The brief reprieve lasted less than ten seconds. The leopard shook its head once, blinked away the sting, then sank its claws back into the bark.

It started climbing again.

”It’s coming back!” Peter shouted. ”Hit it! Keep hitting it!”

”With what?” Richard yelled. ”We’re out of things to throw!”

Peter frantically slapped at his pockets before remembering they’d already emptied them.

His eyes dropped to his boots.

”Shoes!” he shouted. ”Throw your shoes!”

Without another thought, he ripped off his hiking boots.

Richard followed a heartbeat later.

Four boots came flying out of the tree.

One bounced harmlessly off the trunk.

Another missed completely.

Peter’s second boot clipped the leopard’s shoulder.

Richard’s last throw struck perfectly.

The heavy hiking boot smacked the animal square across the tip of its nose.

The leopard let out a furious yowl.

Its claws slipped.

It dropped back to the forest floor, shaking its head in irritation.

For a second, neither man spoke. Then they looked at each other. Both were barefoot.

Both had empty pockets. Nothing remained.

Peter slowly leaned his forehead against the trunk. ”Oh... we’re stuffed.”

His voice cracked. ”That’s it.”

He laughed once—a short, hopeless sound.

”We’ve thrown everything.” He lifted one bare foot. ”I don’t even have shoes anymore.” He looked down at the waiting predators. ”We’re going to get eaten... by African leopards... in New Zealand.”

Richard’s fear curdled into stubborn anger.

”Oh, bugger that.” He tightened his grip on the branch. ”I’m not dying up a bloody tree.”

He shifted into a crouch. ”If one of those things gets up here...” He pointed downward. ”...I’m kicking it straight in the face.”

Peter stared at him. ”With your bare feet?”

”I’ll kick it.” Richard’s jaw clenched.

”I’ll bite the bloody thing if I have to.”

Peter gave a shaky nod. ”Right.” He swallowed. ”We bite the leopards.”

”Exactly.”

”We’re officially insane.”

”Probably.”

”But we’re not giving up.”

Peter took a deep breath. ”If it climbs...” He lifted both feet defensively. ”...I’m punting it.”

”Kick them to death!” Peter agreed through gritted teeth, preparing to use his bare feet as weapons.

They started shouting again.

”Help!”

”Anybody!”

”Help us!”

Their voices echoed through the trees until both men’s throats felt raw.

Below them, the leopards paced patiently. They weren’t rushing anymore..

They simply waited.

Confident their prey couldn’t stay in the tree forever.

Then everything changed.

The leopard pacing around the roots stopped. The leopards froze. Its ears twitched. Its head snapped toward the ridge overlooking the river.

Without warning, it abandoned the tree altogether and sprinted into the undergrowth.

The second leopard, the climber—stayed where it was.

But instead of looking up at Peter and Richard, it slowly lowered itself to the ground. Its belly hugged the earth. Its shoulders tensed. The fur along its spine rose. A deep growl rumbled from its chest. It wasn’t hunting anymore. It was watching.

****

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