by Matt James
Mack didn’t realize how hungry she really was. Unzipping her pack, she pulled out two protein bars and a bottle of water. She had learned to ration them both years back—food and drink—and planned on doing the same now. She’d only drink half the bottle tonight and eat two of the twelve bars she’d brought. She had another three water bottles as well.
Babo ate something she didn’t recognize, nor did she want to ask. It reminded her of jerky but looked a lot fresher and softer than you’d typically find in a bag of Krave. Ian on the other hand had actual beef jerky which made her smile. Mack also had a bag with her. It was a staple for her when she was on the road for long periods of time. She planned on dining on it tomorrow for lunch.
“Krave?” she asked, curious.
Ian shook his head. “Jack Links.”
“Shame,” she said, grinning, “you don’t know what you’re missing.”
He shoved another handful into his mouth, speaking with it full. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He held up the bag. “This is all we have here.” He closed the bag and nodded to Babo. “It could be worse… You could be eating that.”
Babo stopped mid-bite and looked at them both. He didn’t reveal what he was eating, and Mack still wasn’t about to ask.
“Savages, the lot of you.”
Mack turned her attention to Nash. From across the glow she watched as he enjoyed an apple, happily munching away with his mouth wide open. It was one of Mack’s pet peeves. She couldn’t stand it when a person showed no effort to shut their trap while they ate, but for some reason, Ian didn't annoy her, Nash did.
Then she noticed his gaze. It was locked onto her. It made her skin crawl.
“So,” she said, breaking the tension, “don’t like to be on camera much, do you?”
Nash paused mid-bite and looked up at her. “When you’ve seen as much action as I have, you tend to meet some very unfriendly characters.”
“More unfriendly than you?” she asked, enjoying the dig.
He rolled his eyes. “Hardy-friggin-har.”
“He a wanted man,” Babo said, smiling wide. “Price on head.”
Mack smiled and slowly lifted her camera. “Really?” She glanced at Ian and Babo. “I wonder how much we can get for him?”
Babo let out another round of loud guffaws, getting a couple of small chirps from Ian in the process. The only one that didn’t find it funny was Nash.
“Do that, and I’ll—”
“And you’ll do what?” Ian asked, serious. “You think you can do anything to her while we’re sitting here?” He motioned to himself and Babo. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, and I gotta say, I don’t like it.” Ian leaned forward. “Lay off, or I’ll feed you to the dinosaurs myself.”
Nash stood bolt upright. “You know what, I don’t need this shit from you wankers.”
Mack shook her head as he marched off into the night. She listened and waited, knowing he’d eventually trip and go down. It would be the icing on the cake to hear the asshole ding himself up here.
Instead, she heard a gasp and a pair of boots come running back. Not a second after Nash returned, Mack heard it. It was the sound of nightmares. It sounded precisely how Ian had described it in his police report seven years ago.
Scratches.
Nash grabbed his rifle just as Mack, Ian, and Babo climbed to their feet. They all aimed their weapons away from the glowsticks at the center of their makeshift camp. No one said a word. They all stayed quiet and listened, hearing them again.
“Bollucks,” Nash whispered, getting a hiss from Ian in return. Ian put a finger to his mouth and shouldered his shotgun. Mack held her pistol out in front of her, in a classic shooting stance, doing everything she could to keep her hands from shaking.
Where are you?
More scratches started up from somewhere in front of Nash—immediately followed by a second set in front of Babo. Then a third and a fourth. They were completely surrounded by the creatures, still unable to see them in the low light of the dense Madagascan night.
“Okay,” Ian said, his voice barely audible, “quickly pack your gear—Mack and Nash first. Babo and I will follow.”
They did as they were told and speedily stuffed everything they’d just unpacked back inside their bags. The only thing they didn’t get to bundle up were their bedrolls.
It’s not like we’re sleeping now anyway, Mack thought, cringing as the scratching started up again. But so did a raspy, chirping sound. It was like the native had said in her father’s report, “a bird with hate in its voice.”
She glanced over at Ian when she stood. “Oh, my god, Ian. They’re communicating.”
His eyes found hers. They were full of fear.
11
The attack came swiftly and without warning. Ian and Babo barely had enough time to turn around after packing their things before the creatures moved in. Swinging his shotgun around, Ian stayed on one knee and sent two quick shots toward his assailant. They all had their own to deal with and followed Ian's lead by opening up fire.
A chorus of screeches echoed through the darkness surrounding them, but none of the cries were followed by a wet thwap of a body hitting rock. The noises were more anger-filled than they were pain-filled. Ian still had yet to see them for what they were. One thing he knew for sure, they were definitely the same species as the things that killed Abigail.
He couldn’t forget that sound…ever.
“Stay close!” Ian yelled, staring down his sights, looking for something else to shoot. He found them almost immediately, but they moved too quick to line up a decent shot.
Nash’s semi-automatic rifle came to life to Ian’s left, as did Babo’s own shotgun to his rear. The only one that wasn’t continually firing was Mack.
“You still with us, Mack?”
“Uh, yeah,” she replied, sounding unsure. “I just…”
Twin shrieks announced the arrival of two of the…dinosaurs. Ian couldn’t believe what he was seeing. From what he could tell, the one closest to him looked like a classic Velociraptor. Its head bobbed and weaved like a bird too. But it wasn’t a raptor… It was their oversized Rahonavis.
No, he thought, not Rahonavis. It’s a Rahonaraptor.
Feathers ran down the center of its head, looking like a cockatiel’s mohawk. Only these were laid flat atop its skull and appeared to be in a kaleidoscope of beautiful colors. The moonlight wasn’t bright enough to know for sure. Ian wasn’t sure whether it could lift feathers like the animal’s bird cousin could, or not.
The dino extended its arms and opened a set of feathered wings. It used them like a sail, catching the wind when it leaped into the air. It lifted off the ground with ease, hind claws bared.
It didn’t really fly, but it did glide high enough to try and rake its sickle-toed talon across Ian’s face. He blocked the slash with his shotgun, using it as a bow staff. Falling backward, he rolled onto his stomach and watched it reach out for its next kill, Babo.
“Bob, down!”
The larger man adhered to Ian’s warning and dove to the side. The strike caught Babo across the back of his shoulder, eliciting a grunt of pain from the big man. But he wasn’t out of the fight, letting loose a trio of booms from his side. Ian did the same, climbing to his feet and sending his own volley straight over his friend’s prone form.
Moving to Babo, Ian dragged him to his feet, getting a look at the wound as he did. Babo was lucky. The laceration wasn’t too severe. They’d both sustained much worse over the last couple of years working together.
Another scream rang out around Ian, but it wasn’t one of the raptors. It was Mack, and she was being chased. A second one forced Nash into a run as well, taking off behind Mack. Ian was about to follow but was bowled into by Babo as he dodged another airborne sickle-clawed beast.
Seems to be their favored method of attack.
Shouldering his shotgun, Ian unloaded the rest of his cartridge into the moving shadows, once again hearing a shriek of
pain. He chanced a glance and found Mack and Nash, just as the earth opened beneath the fleeing pair, swallowing them whole.
“Mack!” he shouted, stepping forward.
But he didn’t get any further. Like a wraith, one of the raptors appeared from the night and launched its next attack. Not having time to reload his weapon, Ian decided that living to fight another day was more important, and he pushed Babo to the west. Together, the men ran, popping off shots with their handguns as they did. The smaller pops of their pistols seemed to slow the creatures down, but it didn’t completely deter them.
“Where do we go?” Babo asked, holstering his pistol.
Ian did the same, and they changed out their magazines in unison. If he wanted to find Mack and Nash, Ian knew where they needed to go.
“Just keep running.”
“What do we look for?” Babo asked, glancing at them.
Ian sighed. “A portal to hell.”
He wasn’t happy about it, not at all. It was literally the last thing on the planet that he wanted to search for. He would’ve rather reenlisted in the Navy and gone back to the Middle East.
Shit, I’d actually rather go to hell.
A pair of feet came charging up behind them. The area around them had quieted some, giving Ian the ability to hear it. He went into a baseball slide, grinding to a halt, coming up on one knee. Turning, he grinned when he saw the airborne raptor. It did as he thought it would and tried its leaping attack again. Lining up with the dino’s chest, Ian pumped two slugs into it, knocking it out of the air. Unfortunately, the creature’s forward momentum was too great to stop.
It slammed into Ian, and he and the entangled predator went tumbling down a steep grade of earth. As they rolled, Ian felt the raptor’s front claws dig into his chest, slipping just past his Kevlar vest. He cringed when they pierced his skin but was relieved when they almost immediately popped free.
Both man and beast landed on flat ground with a bang and were separated from one another. With his shotgun gone, Ian flipped onto his stomach and drew his Sig Sauer. What he saw made him scream in fright. It wasn’t the dinosaur, it was dead, lying in a pool of its own blood.
What made Ian cry out in horror was the body lying next to the raptor. He’d seen a lot of corpses in his life, but he’d never seen one wearing an abused George Washington University baseball cap. There, now a shell of her once-beautiful-self, was his beloved Abigail. But instead of her dazzling blue eyes staring back at him, they were her hollowed-out, lifeless eyes.
How is this possible? After all these years… The earthquakes?
Ian wasn’t sure if they had reopened a tunnel that had been sealed. It was his only guess. The earth under his feet was made of loose rock, making his assumption at least somewhat feasible.
She’d been just beneath the surface the whole time.
What was left of Abigail was on her back, chin tilted up, mouth agape midscream.
She was looking back up the entry point.
She was looking for Ian.
Sobbing, he backpedaled on hands and knees, slamming into something alive behind him. He jumped to his feet and snapped his gun up but had his hand shoved to the side as he pulled the trigger.
He was that close to shooting Babo point-blank.
His friend ripped the weapon from his hand and slung a series of Malagasy curses at him. He even went as far as shoving Ian back to the ground. When Ian didn’t react, instead openly weeping like a baby, Babo knew something was wrong.
The starlit sky didn’t do much to illuminate the twisting cave entrance either. Ian’s eyes were adjusted enough to know what he saw. Babo innocently clicked on his flashlight and showed it around the room. Ian didn’t want to honestly see Abigail in her current state, but he couldn’t turn away.
“Dear, god,” Babo said in Malagasy.
He quickly clicked off the light and helped his tormented partner to his feet. Ian’s eyes couldn’t break away from Abigail.
“Ian.”
He didn’t look away.
“Ian.”
He still didn’t look away.
“Ghost!”
Ian’s head snapped back toward Babo. Stepping away, the more prominent man held out Ian’s pistol, handgrip forward, nodding his apology. Giving the Babo a soft smile, Ian accepted the offered weapon and holstered it, patting his friend on the shoulder. Babo winced, and Ian’s palm came away red.
“Is it bad?”
Babo shook his head. “I have worse before.” He tipped his chin at Ian. “What about you?”
Ian looked down at his chest and saw blood. Testing it, he gently tapped the area around the puncture wounds, flinching as he did. They hurt like hell, but they weren’t life-threatening. His shirt was soaked where the raptor’s talons had slipped around his protective armor.
Next, Babo bent down and picked up Ian’s shotgun, ripping it out from beneath the dead dinosaur. It had landed further into the tunnel, deeper into the shadows.
Composing himself, Ian slung the shotgun over his shoulder and faced his dearly departed. “Give me a light, will you?”
“Is that wise?”
He looked over his shoulder, his sad eyes telling Babo that he needed to do this. Respecting his wishes, Babo reignited his flashlight, showing it over Abigail’s body. Taking a deep breath, Ian knelt and gently lifted her left hand. He allowed himself to smile when he saw that her wedding band was still present. With another deep breath, he carefully slid it off, softly squeezing her gnarled fingers.
Before Ian stood, he gently removed her filthy, well-loved hat, dusted it off, and adjusted its size. Then, he placed it backward on his bald head. He didn’t care what state it was in, he’d do what he could to honor Abigail’s memory and wearing the cap just felt right. Standing tall, he turned and opened a small pocket on his vest. Abigail’s simple, non-flashy wedding band went in. His eyes found Babo’s, and he nodded his thanks, patting the pocket affectionately.
“Okay, then,” Ian said, pulling free his own small flashlight from his belt, “let’s see what we’re up against.”
He turned to the dead animal and was awed by its brilliant plume. Every color of the rainbow was represented from the brightest of yellows to the deepest of purples. Like the creatures they saw before, it had an impressive mohawk of feathers on its head—only now he noticed that they continued down its neck, meeting with those on its shoulders and wings.
Its skin was nearly translucent too. Ian had seen plenty of deep-sea species on TV and read about them in Mack’s magazine to know that the feature was common in animals that continually lived without light. It was the freakiest, most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Next, he used the barrel of his shotgun to move its elongated arm away from its face. Ian desperately needed to see the face of the monster that killed Abigail, not that it was this particular raptor. He didn’t even know if the one that murdered her was still alive. Killing “the one” wouldn’t solve anything either. He was here to prove Abigail right, not avenge her death.
Vengeance rarely met your expectations. Most of the time, you felt depressed and unfulfilled once you exacted your revenge. Ian believed it was a waste of time and energy to enact such a thing. Even now, he was feeling heartache and he’d already killed one. Nothing helped. He could probably kill a dozen more and still feel broken on the inside.
When the wing flopped to the side, both Ian and Babo took a giant step back. Ian’s brain had told him that its face looked like a typical Velociraptor. Everyone in the world had an idea of what they looked like thanks to Michael Crichton and Stephen Spielberg. However, this was something different. Ian took in his dark surroundings and understood why the dino had no eyes.
“It evolved,” he mumbled.
The species had lived in the dark for so long that it no longer had a use for its eyes. This genetic alteration, like the borderline transparent skin, lent to his earlier comparison to a deep-sea fish. There was a pair of flesh-covered sockets where the ey
es would have been. Because there was barely an indentation present, it couldn't have been a recent change.
Millions of years?
The dinosaurs were true cave dwellers. It helped explain why all of the attacks occurred at night. It’s not that the predators were nocturnal, it’s that they’d never experienced daylight and probably avoided it like the plague.
He thought back to their aboveground battle. When the raptors leaped into the air, they swung their claws wildly in long arcs. They could feel where their prey—them—was but couldn’t see their exact position. The creatures seem to rely on vocalization too, just like bats do.
Echolocation, maybe?
He didn’t get to answer his own question. A deep growling sound resonated around them, originating from the tunnel opening above them. Splaying his light over the chamber, Ian found a tunnel leading deeper underground, straight into the heart of the mountain.
Here we go…
12
Mack had never been eaten by a mountain before. It was an experience that she hoped to never relive. The fall had startled them both, her and Nash. Together, they yelped in surprise, plummeting into the black beneath their feet.
At first, she wasn’t sure if they were going to stop or just keep going. She’d heard of volcanic tubes being found within mountains all over the world. Some of them went on for miles. Luckily for them, this one didn’t.
A heartbeat later, they slammed to the ground, both grunting in pain. Mack jammed her knee but didn’t feel anything else following it. She’d torn her meniscus once and recalled the burning sensation that lingered. This was just an ordinary sprain from the feel of it. Still, it hurt like a bitch, and she immediately grabbed for the joint.
“You okay, love?”
Right… Nash.
“Just fine,” she said sarcastically. “Swallowed by a mountain, but otherwise…”
She didn’t finish.
Mack was quickly hauled to her feet and forced forward by the one person she wanted nothing to do with. She tried to wrestle out of his grip but couldn’t. Nash had his hand locked around her bicep, and he wasn’t about to release her.