Dark Island

by Matt James

  A low snarl filled her ears as something, the fossa, stepped out of the gloom and onto her back. It leaned in close and inhaled, getting itself ready for its well-earned meal. But before it could deliver the killing blow, a deafening chorus of hoots, louder than a passing locomotive filled the air. Within the bombarding sound, Mack and the fossa were enveloped by a swarm of black, furry bodies.

  Knowing she was about to die, Mack was shocked when she didn’t. The ferociousness of the lemurs’ response was terrifying, yet, they still didn’t seem to be interested in her. The fossa, on the other hand, didn’t stand a chance. Mack couldn’t see what happened to the predator…but she heard it.

  There was enough time for it to let out one rage-filled cry before its voice was transformed into a wet gurgle. Then, the crushing weight was lifted from Mack’s back and the animals, including the defeated fossa, were gone, back into the trees. The entire attack took just seconds and was totally unseen.

  “What the shit!” a voice shouted. It was Nash and he was close.

  “Where are you?” she asked, looking around, still teetering on her stomach. “I can’t reach my flashlight.”

  One bloomed to life to her right, just feet from her face. Nash was on his back, groaning as he sat up, favoring his bad shoulder. His eyes flicked between Mack and the branches above them. Eyes wide, Mack knew he’d seen what happened.

  “They’re like bloody piranhas.” He shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Mack laughed and winced, feeling one of her ribs painfully flex back into position. “I still haven’t…”

  She had heard that same sound from a group of lemurs once before when she was at the Palm Beach Zoo in South Florida visiting a friend of her father's. The sound echoed across the entire complex, sounding exactly like this had.

  Minus the gurgles of blood, of course.

  “Happy you didn’t shoot one of them now?” Mack asked, smiling.

  Nash grinned. “Shit right I am!”

  Getting to his feet, Nash slowly climbed back up into the large “V” of the tree. Mack wasn’t able to see him from where she hung, but she could make out the aura of his flashlight just outside of her periphery.

  Moving like a three-toed sloth, Mack successfully raised her right knee up, breathing more comfortably. The branch had been jammed just under her ribcage, making it hard to inhale. With an arm and a leg dangling over each side of the thick tree limb, she paused her ascent and took in a half-dozen deep inhalations.

  She was relieved that she was still alive, but one thing still bothered her about it. The lemurs showed a behavior that compared to that of a domesticated animal—a pet even. To Mack, the endemic species reminded her of a pack of guard dogs at work, protecting their master to the death.

  But there haven’t been any signs of a human habitat here.

  The thought was one that had been bouncing around in her head for a little while now. Why else would a creature like the lemurs feel the need to save them at the risk of their own survival?

  “We ain’t got time for that, love.”

  Nash was standing over her, six feet above where she’d fallen. Mack agreed with him too, she just didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Rest was something they didn’t have time for.

  Without a remark, she carefully climbed to her feet and held up her hand. Kneeling, Nash bent down and clasped her wrist using just his right hand. Gritting his teeth, he hauled her up while she used her legs to climb.

  Back into the relative safety of the tree’s landing, Mack took a moment to catch her breath. Next, she slipped into her backpack—suddenly realizing that she didn’t have the rifle anymore.

  “It’s gone,” Nash confirmed. “Over the edge somewhere.”

  Mack nodded and drew her sidearm instead. While more comfortable with the much smaller pistol, Mack wished they still had the increased firepower that came with Nash’s assault weapon.

  “Where to now?” Nash asked.

  Mack shrugged. “Forward?”

  “So, down?”

  She nodded again. “We’ll make better time on the ground, especially with our friend gone. Plus, the fossa’s blood will attract unwanted attention.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Nash replied, starting off back the way they’d come. They would descend the large fallen tree and circle back around, passing beneath their current location. Maybe they'd find where the rifle had fallen. Perhaps it was even still in useable condition.

  No chance, she thought.

  The hundred-foot fall would’ve certainly damaged the weapon beyond repair. They were down to just their light-hitting Sig Sauer handguns now. Their chances of making it to the surface had just been slashed considerably.

  Mack glanced back to the “V” and actually smiled. As depressing as their predicament was, she could take solace in knowing that, for whatever reason, they had a mob of ravenous guardian angels watching over them.

  Not only would the discovery of this place be a find like no other, but the discovery of a human presence beneath the surface of Madagascar would be the motherload of all motherloads. It could, and probably would rewrite the history of mankind just like these caves were rewriting the history of dinosaur evolution.

  And mammalian evolutionary history too.

  There were more than just reptiles down here. There was an actual ecosystem at work. Predator, prey. Hunters and the hunted. The only real question Mack had that honestly mattered was whether she and others were the hunters or the hunted.

  Duh! We’re the prey here.

  Both hurting from various ailments, Mack and Nash carefully descended the leaning tree and made it to ground level without interruption. Not taking the time to wonder why nothing had tried to kill them, they headed back the other way, coming up on the second tree moments later. They quickly searched for the fallen rifle but couldn’t find it.

  “Maybe it’s still in the tree somewhere?” She asked aloud—more to herself than to Nash.

  “Doesn’t matter,” he replied, “we don’t have the luxury of time right now.”

  Mack agreed and moved around the tree, seeing more of them for as far as the light went. Every time they passed one, another would show itself in the distance. They were in a forest of redwood-bamboo hybrids. Nash’s “Hollow Earth” theory seemed more and more plausible with every new encounter.

  “What if there are more of these subterranean worlds elsewhere—beyond Madagascar, I mean?” She glanced over at Nash. “What if this one is just cut off from the mainland and not as unique as we think?”

  He silently nodded, bit his lip, and then spoke. “I think it’s safe to assume that you’re right. Why would this place only exist here and not anywhere else on Earth? Seems like it would be an awful waste of space.”

  Mack snickered, recalling the quote from the movie Contact. “This really is like alien life, isn’t it?”

  He stopped and faced her, serious. “You don’t get it, do you?” He pointed at Mack and then himself. “We are the aliens. We are the invading force. The term ‘alien’ doesn’t mean a creature from space, it refers to something that doesn’t belong where it currently is.”

  “Like us,” Mack said softly, understanding. They didn’t belong here. She stood tall, collected herself, and caught up to Nash. “Well, then, we need to phone home somehow and get out of Dodge.”

  “Slow your roll, love. At this rate,” he sighed and rolled his shoulder, testing it, “we may not get the chance. I’ve been in some pretty helpless situations before…” he looked ahead, “this is definitely at the top of my list.”

  22

  As Ian and Babo marched forward, the ground beneath them began to rise slightly. The cliff was far behind them now, at least an hour or so. Inclines were a blessing at this stage. Going up meant they were that much closer to the surface than a few minutes before.

  During the lapse in action, Ian was no longer focused solely on their escape. He found himself worrying about Mack
. He even held out hope that Nash would return as well. In another lifetime, Ian would’ve done anything to save another man’s life. But with a man like Thomas Nash, Ian wasn’t sweating his survival as much as he was Mack’s.

  He really didn’t care if Nash made it topside or not. If that made Ian a bad person, then so be it, Ian Hunt was a bad guy. It was the hardest part about doing what he did for a living now. He was half-soldier half-pirate, and his feelings were also cut in two, divided evenly between his past and present.

  Ian acted like he didn’t care, and sometimes he didn’t. Then, there were the times he really did care what happened to someone other than himself. Following Abigail's death and then his release from prison, Ian spent roughly two of those years truly believing he was a bad guy. Then, he ran into a man known as a “gentle giant” within the community.

  Babotine Ulaadowe owed money to a man known for doing favors for those who asked. Desperate for business at the time, Babo agreed to the man's terms even though his services came with a price of the man's choosing. That man was Wandu's old boss, Iban Hadano. What Babo didn't know was the preferred method of payment that Iban had for a contract delivered to Babo's farm.

  In the week that followed, Babo came into more money than he expected as several stores brought their business his way. Then Iban showed up to collect on his debt. Babo was all set to hand over whatever Iban felt he was owed and expected to be turning over the influx of his income. But to Babo's horror, Iban wanted his fourteen-year-old daughter as payment. That was when Babo had turned to Ian for help.

  It was the first time Babo and Ian had done anything together. Babo had heard of Ian’s supposed past in the military and rushed to the American for assistance. No one else in Ambalavao agreed to confront Iban. Everyone was scared of the man’s mob-like tactics. He had made people disappear in the past.

  Ian, the former SEAL, couldn’t have agreed to help faster. Even he was surprised at how quickly he had jumped into somebody else’s problems. Until then, all Ian had done was a few odd jobs for Fossa since he spent most of his time researching what to do about his nightmares.

  But he put everything on hold to help a perfect stranger, Babo.

  Babo was beholden to him for the rest of his life, not that Ian wanted anyone to be “in debt” to him. They waited for Iban and his men to come for Babo’s daughter, making their move as soon as they entered his home.

  Babo’s family wasn’t there, of course. They were at the rear of their property, hiding inside an alcove beneath their shed. The “classically” trained Ian Hunt got his first look at the raw anger within Babo that day. He’d never seen someone unleash hell so violently before—with his bare hands no less.

  At the end of the bloody confrontation, Babo killed Iban, snapping the man’s neck like a toothpick with his massive arms. Ian had taken out the two men that had come with him. One of them was Wandu, the portly fellow Ian had humiliated just recently.

  Now, Ian and Babo were joined at the hip. Ian would call for Babo’s help whenever he needed an extra set of hands on a “job.” Babo was still tending to his farm but had seen a drop in income with Iban was dead. The local businesses weren’t being forced to buy from Babo anymore and his farm had fallen into hard times.

  Need to get Babo back to Suria, Ian thought, picturing the now nineteen-year-old “woman.” She was a beauty and as close to a niece as Ian ever had. She was still a daddy’s girl, and someone Ian would watch over forever. Even if he did eventually leave Madagascar, Ian vowed to keep in touch and return if necessary.

  Gotta get out of this hellhole first.

  The trees thinned as they moved, opening up into a clear-cut section of nothing. The anomaly in the cavern gave Ian the chills. He could see where tree stumps were at one point but saw that they’d been completely removed. Where they’d once grown had also been filled in. The only thing that destroyed jungles like this was man.

  “This feel bad,” Babo whispered. “This not right.”

  “Agreed,” Ian muttered back. “I don’t like it either.”

  Side by side, they stood at the entrance of the vacant area and waited, listening for anything. But they saw and heard nothing. The one time Ian wanted a fight with some kind of evolved monster, he couldn’t find one.

  Figures.

  He glanced over at Babo and saw that he was also ready to get going. Standing around felt wrong. The giant’s bloodied hands were clenched tightly, ready to wail on something mean. He was squeezing his drawn pistol so hard that Ian thought he was going to crush it to a pulp.

  But after another minute of silence, Babo relaxed and nodded his chin forward. Ian nodded back, and they moved off, wary of an attack from all sides. Without the cover of the canopy and its glowing moss and fungus, Ian and Babo were out in the open and all but blind. Occasionally, they found a mushroom or slick of algae to see by, but otherwise, they were walking blind.

  Ian was tempted to click on his flashlight but thought better of it. As long as they were careful, he didn’t see any reason to do so and draw unwanted attention their way.

  “Ghost,” Babo said, grabbing Ian’s arm and stopping.

  Ian felt it too. A series of tremors could be felt beneath their feet. They were either occurring deep underground or they were just really low on the Richter Scale, Ian didn’t know which one. Nor did he really care as long as the ceiling didn’t come down on them.

  As soon as the tremors subsided, another set began. Only these felt closer—stronger than the set before. It was as if they were rising to meet them head-on.

  “Oh, shit,” Ian mumbled, looking around. There was something else that could shake the earth like that. Something that was alive…and angry.

  Looking behind him and Babo, Ian saw what he dreaded. A massive shadow could be seen just outside of the allotted light provided to them. It stalked back and forth, looking unsure of the open area.

  What does the drongo have to fear?

  It didn’t matter really. Sooner or later, the monster would grow “a set” and Ian and Babo would be nothing more than paste. They slowly backed away, continuing their trek across the open expanse of stone and dirt. If Ian had learned anything so far, they should’ve been running. But that would only entice the giant croc more.

  Bellowing into the subterranean air, the creature charged.

  Too late…

  Without a word, both Ian and Babo took off sprinting as fast as their bruised bodies could carry them. Neither one fired a single shot at the drongo either. An animal that size would take the bullets as if they were bee stings. The only thing that might slow it down would be a round to the eye, if they could get lucky enough to pierce it.

  Ian was about to try but relented, knowing he would only waste what little ammo he had left. Babo must’ve thought the same because he holstered his weapon at the onset of their escape.

  Escape…

  Where were they escaping to? It was a question with no answer. Either they found the other side of the cave, or they died. Pushing harder, Ian went for broke, uncaring of the pain lancing through his legs, back, chest, and head. His heavy breathing was aggravating his chest wounds terribly. A chorus of shrieks announced the arrival of something else. Unfortunately for Ian and Babo, they both knew what was coming.

  Seconds later, a swarm of the flying dinos, the smaller Dorydevils, enveloped them. They were lucky too. If their mother decided to include herself in the fight, they’d be seriously screwed.

  Ian glanced behind him and was happy to see the little shits had also gone after the drongo. Regrettably, they weren’t slowing it down as much as they were slowing him and Babo down. Drawing his pistol, Ian put a bullet in the closest one, finding it hovering directly in front of them. Babo did the same to the one off to his left.

  Ian put two rounds into a wing of another, sending it spiraling out of control. It landed clumsily behind them where it was crushed with a series of cracks, pops, and splats.

  The Razanandrongobe was making up
the distance between them quickly. Ian spied it bulling through a throng of the smallish flying predators, using its massive skull as a battering ram.

  “Look!” Babo yelled, pointing forward.

  Taking his eyes off the creatures swarming around them, Ian saw what Babo did. There was an enormous wall of stone coming up, but it wasn’t the cliff that got Ian and Babo’s attention, it was the anomaly at its base.

  A tunnel?

  Ian and Babo both put on more speed, grunting as they ran. Neither man was in any shape to be moving like they were. If they made it to the opening, both would surely collapse from exhaustion.

  Ian knew he would, and he wasn’t even in as bad of shape as Babo was. His eyes were dancing, and he saw spots. Looking at the mountain running along beside him, Ian was absolutely stunned that his friend was moving the way he was. It showed what kind of man Babo really was. As much as Ian wanted to get him home to his family, Babo wanted it that much more.

  Ian’s thoughts turned to Mack. He really wanted to see the feisty redhead again.

  The ground shook, the drongo roared, the winged demons screeched, and the two men shouted. Then, Ian threw himself forward.

  He lost consciousness when he landed.

  23

  Ian wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious, and he didn’t react right away when he woke. He kept his eyes shut and took in the world around him. At the very least, he knew he was alive. That was the best news he could ask for. Where he was now, and who was carrying him, was another question entirely.

  How many times have I lost consciousness now?

  It felt like a group of children were holding him aloft on his back. The difference between these kids was that they had what felt like an unbreakable vice grip on him. Plus, they were covered in a fur and smelled of feces and death. Whatever was carrying him, wasn’t human.