Primeval Page #4

Gwanyana is one of

the village elders,

a sort of priest shaman.

He is performing a rite

for the soul of the little girl.

He says Kirunga came again.

Kirunga is like a bad spirit.

Evil men call to him,

men like Little Gustave.

The good people are weak.

They are the ones who suffer.

They live in fear.

Kirunga surrounds them.

Little Gustave rules the land.

The crocodile rules the water.

Hey!

Hey! Hey!

Hey. Naughty By Nature, right?

This is some good sh*t. Yeah.

I'll have a nickel bag of that.

- It's meant to be a blessing.

- It is.

One more hit? One more hit?

No? OK.

I'll pass. I'm allergic

to mumbo jumbo.

If you'll excuse me.

Hey!

What's he saying?

He says that

we'll find what we seek.

Then we'll find death.

You, me, all,

we make Kirunga.

Kirunga kill.

Kirunga save.

Must face.

I think I know

where Gustave might be.

Recent attacks are focused

around a small island

in Kibira Wetlands, a swamp

a few miles to the northeast.

We need a lot of hands,

a lot of help.

Half of you on this side

and half on the other side.

Why carry the cage?

Let's take this road.

Suicide. The shaman says

it's under the control

- of Hutu militia.

- Little Gustave?

The shaman has been

a thorn in his side,

trying to get the village

to stand up to the warlords.

Isn't that why we have

these guys, to protect us?

They can't stop a landmine.

Plus, the militia carry rockets.

Most of them are teenagers,

high on amphetamines.

They'd kill you

for that watch you're wearing.

Come on, lift! We need

more people on the side here.

- OK, you ready?

- Hey, what are you doing?

- You are taking someone's spot.

- What? I'm helping out.

Come on, they need this job.

Come on.

Give me a break.

I'm just trying to help.

Fight! Kick his ass!

The more you help, the worse it gets.

It doesn't mean you shouldn't try.

Set up camp far enough

away that we don't spook it.

There's a perfect spot

a kilometer back.

- My own blend.

- A little early for me, man.

- Just take a whiff.

- What is it?

Agh! Mother of God!

A combination of blood/urine pheromones.

I'll spread a trail in the

water, leading to the cage.

Never had much luck with croc bait.

You'll see, from two kilometers,

Gustave will come running

with a hard-on.

Tranquilizer darts won't work.

They can't penetrate his scales.

I'd never use tranqs.

Too much danger of overdosing

and drowning the animal.

It's an electronic transmitter.

All I need is one clear shot...

...and we'll always know where he is.

Thank you very much.

Asante. Asante sana.

Thank you. Asante.

Thank you.

Thank you. Asante sana.

You from America, Hollywood.

Not yet, but I'm working on it.

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