Going down the steel stairwell, Mason thought it strange seeing the pens empty, when only yesterday, they were so crowded with sheep, the tightly-knit mass looked like a shaggy wool carpet. Mason followed Ramsey down the stairs until they reached the bottom level and the enclosed stockades.
“You think we’ll have them all sedated by nightfall?” Ramsey asked.
“I hope so,” Mason replied. He could hear the six Xing-Xings screeching and racing about the huge cage. They always seemed to have endless energy and were in constant motion. He gazed through the bars at the fifty-pound primates that resembled brown-face baboons. When it came time for transporting, they would have to take extra precautions making sure the creatures were knocked out, as they were extremely dangerous.
But then, so was every creature on this level.
Mason and Ramsey continued walking down the aisle between the stockades.
To their right, were the four Alxasaurus. The dinosaurs were as tall as ostriches with long necks and tails. Their entire bodies were covered with aquamarine colored feathers. Instead of wings, they had short arms with large-fingered claws.
On the left, a dozen turkey-sized Caudipeteryx gathered together in the middle of their enclosure. They were more flamboyant with dark blue feathers and red-tipped plumage on the tips of their wings and tails. They, too, had long clawed fingers.
Mason could hear the other creatures, restless in their enclosures. Maybe they sensed that the ship was no longer in motion and were anxious at what might come next.
He walked up and peered through the bars of the last cage. The creature inside sat on the floor like a giant toddler. “Hey there, big guy. It won’t be long now.”
For the past three weeks, Mason had been the only one that interacted with the creature and they had formed somewhat of a bond, though Mason knew to be wary. At one thousand pounds and twelve feet tall, the giant Yeren—the Chinese version of the Pacific Northwest Bigfoot—was certainly a far cry from a domestic pet though it did have a given name.
Mason went over to the food sacks and grabbed an open fifty-pound bag of potatoes. He reached in and began tossing the rustic spuds into the cage. The Yeren responded by scooting across the floor and snatching up each potato and stuffing it into his mouth. Soon his cheeks bulged so full, drool oozed out the corners of his mouth.
“Guess you won’t be wanting gravy with that, eh Lenny?” Mason said with a laugh.
4
AMY’S BIG SURPRISE
Caroline Rollins got into the mindset to confront the man with the knife, standing only five feet away. He was big, athletic, and outweighed her by seventy pounds. He held the blade firmly in his right hand with the tip pointed directly at her chest and looked as though he had done this kind of thing before. His face showed no emotion, eyes fixed on her like a calculating predator sizing up his kill, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
She made a slight sidestep with her left foot. He countered by staying in front of her, blocking her path and giving her no way to escape. He was close enough that if she turned to run, he would be on her in a flash.
There was no point in yelling for help. She was on her own. It was either fight or flight and she had already made the decision that to flee would be suicide.
Caroline never took her eyes off the menacing blade. One quick jab and it could all be over.
The man lunged.
Caroline caught a quick whiff of his sweat, the body odor masked by cheap cologne. She grabbed the wrist of his knife hand with her left hand and then clamped it like a tight-fitting manacle with her other hand. She twisted his arm in an unnatural position, which threw him off balance, giving her the opportunity to deliver a sidekick to his groin. As he went down, she struck his knuckles with the heel of her hand. His fingers immediately opened up and he dropped the knife. She kicked at him again, this time in the ribs and then in the head.
She retrieved the knife and pretended to run.
“Excellent,” praised Sensei James Carson.
Amy Chen, and five other karate students stood around the edge of the blue gymnasium mat. Everyone was barefoot and wore white gi jackets and loose-fitting pants with sash belts tied around their waists. Two students wore yellow belts, the other three green. Amy’s belt was brown.
Gabe Wells—the defeated knife-wielding attacker—wore the same attire and had a brown belt. He quickly sprang from the mat onto his feet. He faced Caroline, who also wore a brown belt. They both bowed to one another.
Sensei Carson, Master Black Belt and owner of Dragon Claw Dojo located a few blocks from the university, taught martial arts to dedicated students as well as women’s self-defense classes to those wanting to be able to protect themselves on and off campus. He held out his hand.
Caroline gave him the rubber knife and bowed to her instructor. He returned the bow and looked at the class. “Number one thing to always remember when defending against a knife attack: always stay out of the path of the knife. If you don’t, more times than not, you will end up being stabbed. Once you have deflected the initial attack, then you can counter with a crippling blow to the head or body.”
He turned to Gabe. “Nice job, Gabe.”
“Thank you, Sensei,” Gabe replied.
“That’s our session for today,” Sensei Carson said.
The students bowed to the sensei, ending the class.
“You two looked really intense out there,” Amy said to Gabe and Caroline as they crossed the room to retrieve their karate gear bags.
“Maybe a little too intense,” Gabe said, rubbing his inner thigh. He glanced over at Caroline. “Next time, watch the groin shot.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, a little too close for comfort?” Caroline said with a wink.
“Laugh all you want.”
“Better watch out, next time I might not pull my kicks.”
“You’re the one that’ll suffer later, not me.”
“Amy, are you hearing this?” Caroline said to her friend as the three of them slipped on their sandals. The other students had already filed out the front door and Sensei Carson had gone to his office in the back.
“Guys, behave,” Amy said. “I have something to tell you.”
“What’s that?” Caroline asked, rummaging through her tote bag to make sure she had her headgear, boxing gloves, chest and foot protectors for sparring, along with her two trident sai swords.
“Remember I told you my father works at a travel agency?”
“Yeah, so?” Gabe said.
“He was able to get us tickets very cheap.”
“What are you saying, Amy? You went and had your dad buy us plane tickets and didn’t consult us first?”
“I wanted it to be a big surprise for spring break.”
“Wait a second,” Gabe said. “I was thinking of asking Caroline if she wanted to go visit my parents during spring break.”
Caroline turned to Gabe. “You were?”
“Yeah.”
“Guys, you can’t pass this up,” Amy said.
“Why not?” Caroline said.
“It’s a real good deal. And my father said he would pay for it.”
“Then you better tell him to get his money back,” Gabe said. “I don’t think we can go.”
“There’s a problem,” Amy said.
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“There’s no refund.”
“Seriously, Amy?” Caroline said. “So if we don’t go, your father can’t get his money back?”
“Maybe you could get someone else to go with you,” Gabe said.
“Guys! I want you to go!”
“But what if we don’t have the money right now?” Caroline said.
“No worries. You don’t have to pay him back. His way of showing his appreciation for you being my friends and helping me with school. To not go would hurt his feelings.”
“Amy, I can’t believe you did this.” Caroline looked at Gabe. He didn’t say anything and shrugged his shoulders.
> “You have passports, right?” Amy asked.
“Yes, of course. Why? Where are we going?”
“To where I grew up as a little girl.”
“What?” Gabe said. “Your father booked us a flight to China?”
“This gets crazier by the minute. Where would we stay?” Caroline asked.
“Don’t worry,” Amy said with a big grin. “It’s all been arranged. We can stay with my cousin for free. He’ll feed us and everything.”
Gabe looked at Caroline. “Well, what do you think?”
“Could be fun. What about your parents?”
“We can see them another time. But I better let them know of our plans. What about yours?”
“Being a senator’s daughter, my dad’s always busy and we haven’t gotten to travel much. I’m sure they won’t object.” Caroline turned and smiled at Amy. “So, when do we leave?”
“Three days.”
5
NIGHT CONVOY
Mason held onto the handgrip like it might actually save his life in the event of a crash as they took yet another high-speed turn on the perilous shoreline road. It was dark upon leaving the harbor but there was enough moonlight shimmering on the ocean that he could see the white-capped waves crashing on the boulders at the base of the 500-foot precipice every time they got too close to the shoulder as there were no guardrails to obscure his view.
He glanced at the sideview mirror and saw the headlights of the small convoy of trucks barreling behind them, weaving around each bend.
Ramsey sat in the middle between Mason and the Chinese driver.
“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to slow down,” Ramsey said to the driver. The man ignored him and kept staring straight ahead, both hands on the wheel, cigarette dangling out of his mouth. Maybe he was deaf or didn’t understand English.
Mason suspected it might be both.
“Mind cracking open your window,” Ramsey said, fanning the smoke from his face. Again, the man was mute like he hadn’t heard the request.
Mason figured rather than keep nagging the man it was easier for him to open his own window. He pushed the button on the armrest and lowered the glass halfway down.
The cross draft drew more smoke into Ramsey’s face.
“Jesus, give me a break,” Ramsey bitched.
Mason raised his window.
The driver snubbed his butt into the overfilled dashboard ashtray and left it smoldering. Ramsey reached over and put it out just as the compulsive-smoker lit up another cigarette.
The road reached a summit and turned inland, giving Mason and Ramsey their first glimpse of the sprawling metropolis of Hangshong Province.
“Wow, will you look at that,” Ramsey said.
The city was aglitter with futuristic-looking high-rises and stunning glass spires and looked like a picture-perfect postcard.
“A guy on the ship said this is one of China’s wealthiest cities,” Mason said.
“Looks pretty big,” Ramsey said.
“Yeah, over two million people.”
Instead of heading straight into the city, the driver veered off the highway and onto a two-lane road that took them out into the country through vast partials of paddy fields and more open land. They continued on for about twenty minutes.
“What the hell is that? A prison?” Ramsey said.
“Looks like a fortress,” Mason said, once he saw the thirty–foot tall wall lit up by spotlights shining up from the ground as if promoting a Hollywood premiere.
“Check that out,” Ramsey said, pointing through the windshield.
Mason spotted guards looking down from the parapet walkway.
The driver drove alongside the sheer barrier until they reached a metal gate that was already opening. A fierce giant dragonhead with its mouth agape arched the entrance.
Mason glanced in his sideview mirror and saw the other trucks following behind as they entered the massive compound. Though it was dark, he could see eerie silhouettes of sharp-edged buildings and strange structures in the moonlight. Before he could register what he was seeing, the truck slowed and dipped down into an underground tunnel leading into a wide parking area with bored passageways branching in different directions.
The vehicles pulled up side-by-side and the engines turned off.
Mason opened his door and climbed down from the cab. Ramsey jumped out; both of them glad to finally be away from the driver’s second-hand smoke.
As they walked to the rear of the truck, Mason saw an attractive Chinese woman in a tan shirt and pants, along with twenty Chinese men wearing similar uniforms standing behind her like a small platoon, some armed with four-foot long gaffs.
The woman stepped away from the group. She approached Mason and Ramsey and gave them each a bow. “Hello. I am Song Liu. I am here to assist you.”
“Nice to meet you,” Mason said. “I’m—”
“Lyle Mason,” Song said, “And you are Todd Ramsey.”
“That’s right,” Ramsey replied. “I don’t think our driver understood a word we said to him on the way over here. Does this mean you’ll be our interpreter?”
“Yes,” Song said. “Like you, I also work with the animals.”
“We should get them settled in before their sedatives wear off,” Mason said.
“Very well.” Song shouted to the drivers in Chinese and the men climbed back in their trucks. She turned to Mason. “Do you want to go with the raptors?”
“I don’t think they’ll be much trouble. Ramsey and I should stay with the primates.” Mason watched Song flag the drivers in the two trucks carrying the bioengineered prehistoric birds. The engines started and the trucks drove off down a side tunnel.
“Come with me,” Song said.
Mason and Ramsey followed the woman to an electric golf cart. Song got behind the wheel, Mason in the seat next to her. Ramsey sat in the rear bench seat.
The two remaining trucks started up and headed down an opposite tunnel. Song waited for the lingering exhaust fumes to dissipate then followed the trucks for a short distance to find the men already removing the heavy canvas tarps covering the cargo holds. The trucks had backed up to separate cages with open sliding doors and were butted up to the bars so there was no chance of an animal escaping.
Extending their gaffs into the cargo hold, the men began to prod the sleeping Xing-Xings. The 6 fifty-pound baboons stirred awake, not in the best of moods. They snarled and charged the bars, rattling the cage and screeching like a pack of hyenas.
The men seemed to enjoy tormenting the apes.
“Okay, okay. Back off,” Ramsey said. The men ignored him as they didn’t understand English.
A man got on the edge of the rear bumper and shoved his gaff between the bars to jab the closest Xing-Xing.
Even though the creature was half the weight of the man, it was three times as strong. The man overextended the gaff inside the cage; just enough for the ape to grab the man’s forearm.
Mason heard the bone snap despite the ruckus.
“Get back!” Ramsey yelled. He grabbed a man standing at the side of the truck and pulled him away from the cage then dissuaded another man.
Song yelled for the men to stop. They turned to her and lowered their gaffs.
Mason jumped up on the rear bumper. He pounded on the bars. The ape released the man’s oddly bent arm and vaulted out of the cargo hold into the containment. The other Xing-Xings shrieked and dashed from the back of the truck. Ramsey shut the sliding cage door, sealing the creatures inside.
The whimpering man was carried away.
“He’s lucky he didn’t get his arm ripped off,” Ramsey said.
Mason noticed his friend give him an apologetic look.
He heard a fierce snarl and looked over his shoulder. A man stood by the next truck and was prodding the Yeren in the foot.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Mason shouted.
Song intervened, speaking harshly to the man. He gave her a curt bow and stepped away.
>
“It’s all right, Lennie,” Mason said. “No one is going to hurt you.”
The Yeren narrowed his eyes at Mason like he didn’t believe him and huffed.
Song stepped over to Mason and said, “I apologize for the men’s rude behavior.”
Mason grinned. “That’s okay. I can be a little overprotective.”
“I know. I, too, have bonded,” Song said.
Mason heard a boisterous horselaugh, which he knew had to be Ramsey.
“When you two are through bonding,” Ramsey said still laughing, “how about we get him tucked in? I’m talking about the Yeren of course. I don’t know about you but I’m beat.”
Mason saw Ramsey giving him a look that translated to: That okay with you, Romeo?
“Shut up,” Mason said, even though Ramsey hadn’t uttered a word.
Lennie was too groggy to put up much of a fuss and after a little coaxing, scooted off the flat bed of the truck, and into the high-ceiling cage tall enough that he could stand erect. He sat in a corner furthest from the front of the cage.
After Mason and Ramsey made sure there was adequate water and food provided for their wards, they got back into Song’s electric cart. They went down the main tunnel past a section of clothier display windows, cafeteria-style eateries, banking ATM kiosks, and an arcade with pinball machines and video games.
“Everything you need is down here,” Song said.
“It’s like an underground city.” Mason was rather impressed.
The hum of the electric cart whined down and Song stopped in front of a closed metal door. She climbed out of the cart and swiped a keycard in the reader on the wall, which slid open the door. “Let me show you where you’ll stay.”
Mason and Ramsey accompanied her down a long hallway with a series of private billets. “Here are your living quarters,” Song said, using a different keycard to open the door. She handed the access card to Mason and gave Ramsey one as well.
Recessed lighting in the ceiling automatically came on illuminating the spacious room. Oriental tapestries ordained one wall by the sitting area consisting of two rattan chairs and a low back couch set around a long short-legged maple coffee table.
Cryptid Kingdom (Cryptid Zoo Book 6) Page 2