Dark Island

by Matt James

  “Ile Aux Forbans,” he said to himself smiling.

  A roar of rage and a crunch of protesting metal startled the mentally drained Ian. Be bolted upright, sitting up much too quick for the condition of his body. He growled and leaned to his right, feeling every single injury he had suffered like they’d just happened again.

  Then, he saw what the noise was.

  The haizina had his truck in its massive jaws ten feet off the ground. To Ian’s surprise, the four-door had ended up perfectly wedged inside. Now, the creature was acting like a dog with a treat jammed in the roof of its mouth. It snarled and thrashed violently, trying desperately to dislodge the annoyance.

  Ian was supposed to do something now…but he couldn’t remember.

  “Ian!” The voice came from behind him. “Now!”

  Careful not to aggravate, well, everything, Ian placed a hand in the soil and looked back the other way. He saw Mack running up behind him, waving her arms, and shouting, “Now, Ian, now!”

  He noticed his hand was clenched around something. Turning his dazed attention to it, he saw that it was small and black—plastic too. Ian recognized it, but like the location of the pirate graveyard, he couldn’t recall its purpose right away.

  Ian was tackled from behind and the small remote ripped from his grasp. He argued against having his little thingy taken from him, but saw it was Mack. Letting her have it, he reasoned that she needed it for something important. Upside-down, and in Ian’s lap, Mack tilted her head back, flicked up the clear protective cover on the detonator, and thumbed the trigger.

  Detonator?

  An instant later, the haizina’s head ceased to exist. In a plume of fire and gore, it exploded, tearing its jaws apart, as well as its thick skull. Ian witnessed the top portion of its mouth flip end over end into the sky before instinctively diving on top of Mack.

  Ian was pelted with debris, both metal, and meat. He groaned against the pressure atop him but gripped the earth to keep Mack safe.

  He’d keep Mack safe.

  His eyes started to close, but Mack’s shrieks woke him. He climbed to his feet, his eyes dancing. He knew what was about to happen. Ian was about to lose consciousness again. But Mack was in danger. He needed to protect her. So, he forced Mack behind him and stood his ground and against his enemy.

  Six raptors.

  “Fuck…”

  They poked at the fresh carcass but seemed to be more interested in the living, breathing meat. Ian and Mack. Apparently, they weren’t into scavenging. They were hunters through and through.

  Ian and Mack backed away together, armed with nothing. His eyes opened, and he went for his knife…but it wasn’t there. He must’ve lost it recently. Shaking his head, Ian tried to clear his vision while looking for anything to use—even a rock would work. The fact that the raptors could even pick up on them with the smoking husk of Ian’s truck’s noxious fumes filling the air was impressive.

  Then, he felt it.

  Both he and Mack were downwind from the raptors.

  Shit.

  With no other choice, Ian raised his fists, feeling them shake from the effort. His clenched hands opened almost immediately. His strength was fading.

  Ian blinked hard and fixated his gaze on the closest raptor. Its pale skin was entirely translucent in the sun. Ian could actually see its veins and even pieces of its organs beneath its scaly flesh. The predator was both beautiful and terrible.

  It flexed its legs to jump but stumbled and stopped. Then, it lifted its head and sniffed the air. It was plain to see that something bothered the hypersensitive animal. Ian was stunned when all six of the raptors turned and fled, shrieking as they did.

  As when the tour helicopter had been incoming, Ian heard the chop of a similar aircraft. A second one was approaching quickly. Too fast, he spun and tripped, tumbling to the ground hard. Face down, he stayed there, content with just blacking out where he lay.

  “Not so fast, tiger.” Two hands hauled him up but stopped. “Um, a little help?”

  Sighing, Ian begrudgingly did as asked. With Mack’s help, he successfully stood, feeling her slip a shoulder underneath his left armpit. Ian was able to stand now, but he could feel that most of his weight was on Mack—which he didn’t like. He tried to shrug out of her grasp, but she held on even tighter as a result.

  “Don’t even think about.” She slid deeper into him, her voice softening. “I’ve got you.”

  He smiled when the aircraft, a military version this time, landed beside the broken, civilian one. Men poured out of the rear hold, all with assault weapons at the ready. When they realized that nothing was currently happening, they slowed their advance, each of them eyeing the dead croc-a-saur.

  No one spoke. Instead, the group fanned out and took up a defensive position around the four survivors. The couple from the first helicopter joined Ian and Mack, both still looking spooked. The husband practically dragged his wife the whole way to them. The younger woman was stark white and scared shitless.

  “I…” he explained, stuttering his words, “I called for help. The radio…it still worked.” He pointed to the nearest man. “They… They were in the area—helping with evacuations.”

  Ian nodded his understanding. “Thanks. That was quick thinking.”

  The husband looked him up and down and smiled uncomfortably. Ian must have been a sight to see. He glanced over to Mack and found her bleeding, bruised face. Something smelled too.

  “What’s that?” Ian asked, sniffing the air.

  Mack huffed aloud. “My hair. It got singed pretty bad.”

  Ian gave her a half smile, happy she saw it.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing…” He shrugged. “It’s just… I can see you looking pretty hot with short hair.”

  Mack squeezed him hard, getting what he knew was a desired squeal. And he did… He quieted when a soldier quickly approached them, the first to do so. Unlike the other men, this one looked like a man in charge.

  He spoke in Malagasy first. Ian obviously understood him but acted like he didn’t.

  “English?” the man said, eyebrow raised.

  “Yes,” Ian replied.

  The seasoned officer had a look of shock on his face.

  “What were they?” he asked Ian.

  Ian and Mack looked at one another and broke out laughing. They were both on the border of delirium and found the question hysterical. Calming some, Ian snorted and wiped his nose.

  Mack answered.

  “What, those?” She acted like it was nothing. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a real-life dinosaur before?”

  Ian snickered again but stopped out of respect for the man who was just there to help. He knew firsthand how hard the guy’s job was and the time and effort he put into his daily tasks.

  “And that?” the officer asked, tipping his chin to the dead monster behind Ian and Mack.

  Ian thought long and hard, wanting his words to mean something to the man.

  Face grim, Ian replied. “That,” his eyes hardened, “was the closest thing to the devil’s guard dog on, or in, this planet.”

  The officer’s eyes opened wide. “Ambanin'ny?”

  Ian recognized the Malagasy word for “underworld,” or, in their case, “hell.”

  He looked at Mack again who just nodded silently, tucking her face into Ian’s chest. The soldier, however, just stood still and stared at the monster. Then, he gazed at Ian.

  “What do we do?”

  Ian glanced down at the top of Mack’s head and then thought about his still missing comrades, Babo and Nash. He looked over his shoulder, seeing the back-half of the haizina—the darkness. Knowing what he needed to do, his shoulder’s dipped at the thought.

  Shit.

  If six of the raptors had made it up to their level—and done it so fast—then how many more of the things could’ve done the same? Giant fossa, elephant bird, big bugs, drongo… The list went on.

  He took a deep breath and
spoke, keeping his eyes on the behemoth before him.

  “We get to work.”

  EPILOGUE

  Three Months Later

  Tremors continued to assault the Andringitra National Park, but thankfully, nothing with the destructive force of the one that collapsed most of the great massif. Ian and Mack were able to heal up for all of one week before setting out on their new “job.”

  The last of Ian’s stitches had just been removed, though he still wore packed gauze over the puncture wounds in his chest. Mack had fared much better than him, minus the new hairdo. She was also becoming more and more comfortable with the decision to quit her job with Nat Geo. Everything had changed in a hurry for the former journalist.

  But man does she look good with a bob, Ian thought, recalling the first time he saw her with the shorter locks. The “slight singeing” that had happened was much worse than either of them initially thought. She’d, in reality, lost most of her ponytail.

  Ian, for the most part, was still Ian. The main difference was with the new scars he’d collected. But the physical additions weren’t as painful as the emotional ones he had carried with him for over seven years. Now, thinking of Abigail, while still sad, wasn’t met with instant torment.

  Mack helped with that too. She’d become his rock—his anchor.

  Now, the two of them were put in charge of a task force whose sole responsibility was to hunt down and/or contain the creatures that had escaped from the underground world beneath Madagascar.

  The Madagascar Protective Agency (MPA), while still in its infancy, had some pretty top-notch talent on its roster to boot. Former military personnel from all over the globe had contacted Ian through the country’s government, wanting in. Of course, everyone had been thoroughly vetted, and not all of them were accepted. It’s not that Ian didn’t trust the local soldiers, far from it.

  Ian needed the help of specialists like himself.

  Now, he and Mack had seven other retired Special Forces soldiers on their team. Three were from the United States, two were from England, and they even had a sniper from Israel.

  The seventh and final member of their squad was the unit leader of the team that had picked them up that fateful day. He was their official liaison with the Madagascan military, and he was more than comfortable with taking orders from Ian which was a relief to him. The last thing Ian needed was a power struggle while hunting for dinosaurs and other prehistoric creatures.

  Ridiculous… The thought still sounded like Vernean fiction. But it wasn’t. His missing friends were proof that this nightmare was, in fact, real.

  Ian and even Mack were currently on the hunt for a flock of elephant birds that had gotten loose on the west side of the massif. Shortly after the initial earthquake, secondary openings had been reported all over the mountain range. With each new exit point, more and more of the subterrestrial animals had become terrestrial.

  “Are you sure there are only four of them?” Joe asked.

  Joe was the local and technically third in command of the task force. His real name was something even Ian couldn’t pronounce without stumbling through it. So, he just called the man, “Joe,” like he preferred.

  Ian nodded, knowing the man could see him in his night vision device. They all wore them, Mack, too. But unlike the soldiers on the team, Mack was the only one armed with just a handgun—and it was at her request. Mack acted as the team’s communications officer as well as their link to the net—more importantly the map on her mini-tablet. She’d gone as far as marking each entrance into the massif and cataloging the creatures that had exited through them. Mack wanted to see if there was a pattern to what animal came from where.

  “Remember to watch your heads,” Mack whispered. “They like to attack from the neck up.”

  Ian grinned when Joe swallowed hard, visibly uncomfortable.

  The first one came from behind a large group of bushes, squawking loudly as it leaped into the air. On cue, everyone hit the deck, doing as Mack had warned. Then, with practice precision, Ian lined up the landing, oversized ostrich, and put three rounds in its chest as it turned around. It went down but wasn’t out… Not until the two Americans did the same.

  Howie and George, like Ian, were former SEALs. The two men had served together for multiple years. They decided to come out of retirement as a duo and were quickly drafted by Ian. The third of the new members from the States was the only other female on the roster.

  Sam Darby was an enigma. She was quiet when it called for it but joked and jabbed at the others when she was herself prodded. She wasn’t shy and was a master in the world of explosives. Sam had also taken it upon herself to train Mack in a way that Mack seemed to pick up on immediately. Sam was a woman in a man’s world. She’d obviously retained a few things that had helped her along the way.

  “Over here,” Jacob subvocalized, barely speaking aloud. He’d brought some pretty impressive gear with him from Israel. The MPA could thank Jacob Levy for their state-of-art comms system. He was also pretty handy with a knife…and a sniper rifle.

  Ian, Mack, Joe, Sam, and Jacob turned and found two more of the birds meandering through the tall grass to the team’s left. The rest of the squad focused on everything else around them, keeping an eye out for the fourth and final creature.

  “Line ’em up,” Ian ordered. “Joe on me.”

  He and Joe would tag-team one of the birds while Sam and Jacob took down the other.

  Mack didn’t help any of them. She rarely fired her gun at all, knowing she didn’t have to. She usually stayed by Ian’s side or at the center of the pack.

  “Light ’em up.”

  They all fired, three-round-bursts for everyone. This time, six bullets went into each animal, and they went down for good.

  “One more…”

  Mack spoke up. “The entry should be a hundred yards straight ahead.”

  Joe looked over at Ian who nodded.

  “Let’s check it out.”

  Without acknowledging Ian, the group followed him. They never backtalked or questioned him. Ever. They knew what he’d been through and trusted him to the fullest.

  Ian loved having a team behind him again too.

  “Stop,” William whispered, looking right. “Movement here.”

  Ian quickly gave his orders. “Take Patrick, Howie, and George and have a look.”

  “Roger that, mate.” William stepped away, and again, without verbal confirmation, the others followed the Brit. William and Patrick, like Nash, were former SAS. One of them actually knew Nash before he was dishonorably discharged.

  Ian, Mack, Joe, Sam, and Jacob stayed put and formed a circle, backs together. They didn’t usually split up, but with them being so close to one of the entry points, Ian didn’t want to take his eyes off of it for too long. It was very possible that the fourth bird had returned home, and they were chasing a flying goose.

  But it was also possible that more had come through since they were alerted to the original four’s arrival a couple hours ago.

  “Keep your eyes peeled,” Ian said.

  “No, shit, sir,” Sam replied, earning a chorus of muted snickers.

  “Darby?” Ian sternly asked.

  “Sir?”

  He glanced at the woman. “Eat me.”

  Sam laughed. “That’s what Mack’s for, sir.”

  Everyone laughed again. Soldiers being soldiers in the face of danger. It was an easy way to break the nervous tension.

  “Contact,” William reported in their comms.

  Gunfire erupted off in the darkness. It came out as small blips of green flashes in the trees.

  “Contact down. Coming back to you.”

  Ian smiled. His team was really, really good.

  As soon as the others arrived, two shadows emerged from the direction of the exit point.

  “Contacts!” Ian shouted.

  Everyone spun and set their sights on the two newcomers. The only ones that didn’t were Howie and George. Their jobs wer
e to guard the team’s rears at all costs. No matter what came at them from ahead, they kept a watchful eye on their butts.

  Huh?

  The pair of things didn’t move like any of the creatures Ian had seen so far. These walked on two legs, like the elephant birds, but they didn’t strut like most birds did. The unknown beings slowly coming toward them walked with purpose.

  They walked like humans.

  “Who?” Ian asked.

  Then, the strangers stepped into Ian’s night vision device’s range.

  “Come on, Ghost, don’t tell me you forgot us already?” The person nudged the other. “Bloody wanker doesn’t see us for a bit, and he’s gone and forgotten who we are.”

  Ian and Mack rushed forward and embraced their long-lost but found comrades.

  Babo and Nash were alive.

  “But how?” Mack asked, tears running down her face.

  “Lights,” Ian called out, lifting his night vision device away from his face. Small LED’s bloomed to life around them, getting uncomfortable groans out of Babo and Nash.

  “Easy boys,” he saw Sam and grinned, “and girls.” He winked at the woman. “Me and Bob haven’t seen light like that in some time.” He thumbed to the entry point. “Fuckin’ dark down there.”

  “How?” Ian asked, repeating Mack’s question.

  “You were wounded badly,” Mack said, checking Nash’s left shoulder. “Infection was only days away.”

  “You,” Ian said, looking at his one-eyed friend, “should be dead—we both know that.”

  Babo nodded. “Yes, I should.” He breathed hard. “We find anything we could. We try to make medicine.”

  “Look, mate,” Nash said stepping in. “Babo and I were done for, right? We found algae that glowed bright white deeper underground, through the gate that the dragon-saur tore down.”

  “You went down there?” Mack asked. “Into hell?”

  “Hell?” Nash rubbed his thick beard. “True enough, no doubt. Anyway, we rubbed it all over us—even jammed some in the big guy’s ruined eye.” Nash slapped Babo on the shoulder. “Show him, will ya?”

  Babo stepped forward and removed the patch from his eye. Ian took a step back at what he saw.