Z. Raptor

by Steve Cole

  Adam smarted at the criticism. “I’ve ridden a flying mutant dinosaur across the Atlantic, okay? I got kidnapped by Geneflow, but I got out again. I even smacked Samantha Josephs.” He felt himself redden, embarrassed at his outburst. “I can handle myself.”

  Loner’s gaze grew more intense. “You have met Josephs before?”

  “That’s kind of why I was brought here,” Adam admitted.

  “That and to fetch and carry food and drink for us,” said Harm drily. “Loner, can I come too? Two can carry more.”

  The raptor’s cold eyes turned to David. “If you agree?”

  “Be careful,” David said. “All of you.”

  “How do we get to these cliffs?” asked Adam, rubbing his bruised ribs and eyeing the muscles bunching under Loner’s scaly hide.

  “I cannot fly,” Loner said, bowing his head as if in apology, “but it will be fastest if I can carry you both on my back, at least some of the way.”

  Adam realized Loner had lowered his neck to allow him to climb on. Nervously, he edged onto the raptor’s ridged, striped back. He didn’t want to hold on too tight. The sight of Loner leaping into the pit and trampling his brother into the spikes flashed into his head.

  Harm mistook his nerves for nonchalance. “Guess this won’t mean much to you, Adam, if you’re used to traveling this way.” She climbed on behind him. “As for me, I don’t think I could ever get used to it.”

  Adam was about to protest when Loner lurched forward. He grabbed hold of the raptor’s neck and Harm held on to his waist, squeezing so hard he almost couldn’t breathe. Then they were away, clattering into the jungle and picking up speed, each footfall jarring through Adam’s bones. He held on tighter, feeling hard, reptilian flesh eating into his arms. His heart whacked wildly as they thudded on through the jungle at incredible speed, vines and vegetation whipping at them. Adam had no idea how fast they were going. He shut his eyes and clung on.

  Adam turned his head to Harm. “What if we run straight into more raptors?”

  “Their scents will tell me when I am close,” Loner hissed.

  Harm smiled tightly. “He can hear and run at the same time. What d’you call that—Z. multitasking?”

  Adam didn’t bother to answer; he was concentrating on holding on. Loner’s endurance was incredible. If anything, he was picking up the pace as they left the overgrown forest and climbed a hillside, building and building speed until he reached the top and leaped over the rise. Adam cried out, first in terror, then exhilaration as they landed safely on the other side of the hill. He began to laugh and found he couldn’t stop—he laughed so hard it felt almost like crying as the tension and fear jerked out of him.

  He looked down. The blue sea fringed the beach way below to their left. It all looked so beautiful from up here; Adam could hardly reconcile the tranquillity with the horror and violence he’d lived through. He raised his eyes, stared at the horizon. There was no sign of the Pahalu, but he went right on staring.

  “Looking for your dad’s boat?” Harm murmured in his ear.

  Adam sighed and nodded. “It is out there, Harm. There were guys guarding my dad, friends of Agent Chen.”

  “The FBI man?” Harm said.

  “Yes.” Adam nodded. “And those guys wouldn’t run out on Chen any more than Dad would run out on me. They’ll be looking for a way to get here.” He half expected Harm to make some sarcastic comment, but she just held on to his waist a little more tightly as Loner kept on plowing on through the wild landscape.

  Adam had no idea how much time had passed, but his spine was starting to feel like jelly. Loner finally slowed as they reached a wide sweep of sandy rock half smothered in green tangles. His breath was coming in short, rough snatches, and his tongue was hanging from the side of his jaws like a thirsty dog’s.

  “Thank you,” Adam said awkwardly.

  Harm scrambled off the raptor’s back. As she did so, she almost fell. Adam reached out a hand automatically, but the raptor’s tail moved faster, curling around Harm’s waist to catch her.

  “I have you,” Loner murmured, helping her to right herself.

  Adam concentrated on keeping upright himself as he swung his legs stiffly down to the ground, his muscles tensed and trembling.

  “We must not be long,” Loner said quietly, falling heavily to the ground, keeping low. “Brutes have passed this way, not long since.”

  “David didn’t think they could climb so far.” Harm looked troubled. “The cliffs overlook their camp, but the other side is a sheer drop. Why would they travel all the way to the other side and around here?”

  Adam froze. “We’re on top of their camp?”

  “No such thing as a safe place on this island,” Harm told him. “Loner, is it safe to check them out, see what they’re doing?”

  “Your scent will blow back this way,” Loner told her.

  “But be quick.”

  Harm was already climbing up the sandy slope of the cliff, picking a deliberate path through gaps in the spiky foliage. Adam followed her, grateful for his sneakers, joining her at the top of the rise. Cautiously he peered over the rocky precipice.

  And looked down on a real-life horror movie.

  Dozens of Brutes had colonized a sheltered inlet. The sand, once white, was now stained with crimson shadows. One Brute, larger than the others, was picking over a large pile of what could only be bodies. With horror, Adam recognized a pile of bloody rags as clothes torn from the drowned men he’d pulled out of the sea.

  “They’ve been building up their supply,” Harm whispered. “That big one, she’s like their queen.”

  “Queen?”

  “The females are tougher than the males.”

  Adam noticed a kind of coronet of barbed wire tangled around the queen’s head. He stared transfixed as she bit greedily into the pile, holding the hunks of meat in her powerful arms. Most she swallowed, but some she spat out onto the sand. Other Brutes hung back, watching intently and competing for the scraps, the largest roaring and spraying acid at smaller rivals who came too close, maintaining the pecking order.

  “Every Brute for himself,” Harm murmured.

  Feeling sick, Adam looked farther along the shore. He noticed that some driftwood and a number of large sails had been turned into a makeshift shelter, with boulders blocking the entrance.

  “Is that her private room?” Adam asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Harm. “It wasn’t there the last time I passed this way.”

  Adam shuddered to think what the shelter might contain. It creeped him out, the way these creatures could plan and build; it was almost as scary as the way they could speak.

  And kill.

  “Seen enough?” Harm murmured. “We’ve got stuff to do.”

  She started to retreat back down the rise toward Loner, and Adam followed. But then he heard a disturbance in the foliage in the valley below. His heart seemed to stop as he looked down, fearing discovery. Harmony froze too. But it was only an ostrich, bursting from the tree line, running spooked—

  And straight into the path of a Brute. The creature had been hiding itself in the long grass. Now it reared up and spat acid. The ostrich weaved, turned and bolted back toward the trees. Before it could get there, a second, larger Brute—a real monster with one eye missing and scarred over—darted out of hiding and grabbed it in his jaws. With a flick of its great gray head, it jerked the bird off the ground and slammed it against a tree, snapping its neck.

  Adam held very, very still. If I can see them, they can see me.

  The one-eyed killer held the large bird above its gray, scarred head and roared. The other Brute bobbed its head lower as it approached, holding out its claws behind it—gestures of submission. Only then did One Eye tear off a wing and a leg from its catch and throw them to the ground, devouring the rest itself. The other greedily ate its lesser spoils and followed One Eye back into the forest. One Eye paused for a moment, scenting the air. It turned and seemed to look in A
dam’s direction. Then it snapped its jaws, turned again and vanished from sight.

  Adam breathed a shaky sigh of relief.

  “Bad boys,” Harm breathed. “Hunting for themselves and not taking it back to their queen.”

  “The smaller one was female,” said Loner. He’d stolen up behind them so quietly Adam hadn’t even noticed. “She is weaker than most. He is injured.”

  “Do they come hunting by themselves ’cause they can’t compete with the others?” Adam wondered.

  Loner nodded. “Dangerous. Their ruler punishes with death.”

  “Dangerous to us too,” said Adam. “If they’d scented us—”

  “C’mon, let’s do what we came here for.” Harm began searching a patch of land nearby. Carefully she pulled away a thin layer of dead grass to reveal a length of clear plastic sheeting.

  It had been stretched flat over a shallow conical pit in the sand. A rock sat on top, placed carefully in the middle. Harm lifted the stone aside, and Adam scrambled down to watch as she carefully turned over the transparent sheet to reveal three coconut shells split in half, nestling in the sand beneath. Each was half full of water.

  “Wow,” Adam said. “Neat trick.”

  “The plastic washed up on the shore. Must’ve come from one of the wrecks.” Harm lifted one of the shells. “So, anyway, you lay it over this hole in the sand, and the sun warms the sand beneath and takes out the moisture. The moisture cools on the plastic, turns to water and drips into the cups. Great to be cast away with a science teacher, huh?”

  She leaned forward over the crumpled plastic sheet, where a few more droplets had collected. In a darting movement, she lowered her face and lapped at it in sudden desperation. Adam watched, uncomfortable. Then Harm glanced back at him.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. “Should’ve shared.”

  She continued to lean forward, reaching underneath a bush and pulling out an ancient empty carton that had once held juice, by the look of it. “Here,” she said. “Pour the water into there for carrying. I don’t trust myself right now.” She straightened up. “I’ll fetch coconuts so we can stoke our supplies a little, ’kay?”

  “Right.” Adam watched her cross to a towering palm tree and climb it with practiced ease. Then he took each hollowed-out shell and poured the water carefully.

  “I think I know why Brutes came up here. I found these.” Loner’s voice carried from the base of the rise.

  Turning, Adam saw the raptor was holding something. His insides lurched as he realized it was a pair of binoculars. He recognized them—they were Chen’s. The man had been using them last night.

  “The Brutes must’ve picked these up from the beach,” Adam said, tugging them gently free from Loner’s claws. “They belong to an FBI agent.”

  Loner stared at him. “A what?”

  “Sorry. I mean, a kind of policeman. From America.”

  “And this agent”—an edge of urgency had stolen into Loner’s voice—“he came from this ship you say is out there?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know if he made it here alive or not. If they’ve got his binoculars, it could mean—” Adam remembered Brad’s burning face on the beach and shook his head wearily. “Why would Brutes need binoculars, anyway?”

  Loner pointed into the distance, to where a concrete building could be seen between two hilltops. “The Vel camp,” he said. “The Brutes have been spying on the Vels.”

  Adam studied the scratched binoculars and saw the “day” setting had already been selected. Brutes aren’t so stupid, he thought as he placed the lenses to his eyes and looked for himself. The magnification was impressive. He could see the cracks and crumbles in the concrete, and sheets of corrugated iron blocking up a doorway. In front of it, two Vels were standing guard beside a kind of scrap barricade—splintered desks, an old refrigerator, chunks of concrete, the rusted chassis of an ancient motorbike, with thick chains snaking between the component parts.

  “They look like they’re expecting an attack,” said Adam. “Is it you they’re worried about?”

  Loner shook his head. “How can I be a threat to them? I was one of the sick ones for many weeks.”

  Adam looked at him. “Sick?”

  “When my young days ended, my mind . . . changed. I felt hot. Weak.” His lips curled awkwardly around the word. “I saw things that could not be real. There were flashes in my sight. I felt things in my mind I did not understand.” He breathed out sharply, spittle flecking the corners of his mouth. “There were others like me. The sick ones are kept strapped down in a dark room. They told us we were just like them. They told us we should act like them.” Loner shook that huge striped head. “But I knew I was not like them. I had a name. They beat me and bled me, but I would not let go of who I am.”

  Adam could just imagine a raptor doctor’s bedside manner. Loner’s like Zed, he realized. He’s learned to think for himself. He stared long and hard into the animal’s deep orange eyes. “So what happened?”

  “In the dark room, at night when it was quiet, I saw people. Human people who came out of the wall . . . in special clothes to protect them.”

  “And you weren’t crazy, were you?” breathed Adam. “The people came from Geneflow, right?”

  “They scraped scabs from our wounds. Put wires in our blood.” Loner shook slightly as he spoke. “Fixed metal against our heads. I thought they were dreams . . . until I saw them press numbers on a pad to make the wall open and close.” He blinked at Adam. “One night I pressed the numbers too. The dark room opened onto light.”

  “And that’s how you found out that this place was part of an experiment,” Adam said.

  “They did not know I could escape,” said Loner, his claws twitching. “I was smart. I escaped many times, but never left. Instead I listened to Josephs. I watched and . . . learned.”

  “There must be real proof of what they’re doing inside that base, if we could just get to it.” Adam looked out to sea again, longing to spy a ship on the horizon. “How many people does Josephs have here?”

  “Not many, I think,” said Loner. “But they have no scent. They are hard to find.”

  Adam nodded. “Geneflow has this sort of antistink spray. Helps them stay hidden from their creations.”

  “They used to creep into the dark room often,” Loner remembered. “But more Vels turned sick. In time, the councillors said they would not waste more food on us. They took us away from camp and left us to hunt for ourselves.” Loner looked out to sea just as Adam had. “Most died. They starved or were killed by Brutes. Only I survived. I don’t think I was truly sick. I grew strong again. My mind grew clearer.” His head snapped back around, voice growing fiercer as he bore down on Adam. “And I knew what I had to do. Stop all this. Stop Geneflow. But the councillors would not listen, could not understand. They hate me, fear me. Because I am different.”

  Adam shrank back a little. “Didn’t you show your . . . your pack the door in the wall? Tell them that they were part of an experiment?”

  “I told them, Adam. They would not listen. The old sickroom had been made a forbidden place in case sickness spread. No one would go there.” Agitated, Loner rocked back and forth as if getting ready to spring. “But even if they had listened to me . . . even if we had killed Josephs’s humans . . . Geneflow would send more humans to kill all of us.” He shook his large, serpentine head. “Nowhere to run to on this island. No escape.”

  “I get it,” Adam said. “So you had to get help from the outside world. You made the video message.”

  Loner looked at Adam almost accusingly. “I risked my life, creeping inside Geneflow’s base to send it.”

  “And it worked,” Adam said quickly, holding up the binoculars. “It was worth it, right? Help’s come.”

  “It has not worked well enough,” Loner hissed. “Not yet. And time is running out.”

  There was something about Loner’s intensity that scared him.

  “If only we could get another message to D
r. Marrs,” said Adam shakily. “Warn him about the underwater guard dogs. If he could deal with them so proper troops could land here—”

  Loner snorted and sank back to his haunches. “We would never get as far as the sickroom. My brothers and sisters would tear us apart.”

  “Hey.” Harm approached with an armful of shiny green fruits. “Guess we should be getting back with the water for the others.”

  At once, Loner seemed to forget his frustration, turning to her and bowing his head. Harm only eyed him warily and held out some coconuts to Adam to hold while she adjusted her bulging satchel. He dropped one as he tried to carry them all. Loner scooped it up and scraped the top against the sicklelike claw on his right leg. It sliced through the hard fruit’s tough skin like a knife opening a hard-boiled egg.

  “Drink,” Loner said softly, holding out the fruit to Harm and Adam. “You are going to need your strength.”

  12

  DEATH ROW

  The journey back to David and Lisa was more exhausting and painful than exhilarating. Still perched precariously on Loner’s back, Adam’s fingers and palms were covered in cuts from the raptor’s sharp, stubby feathers, and his stomach muscles had been clamped hard for so long his guts felt lined with broken glass. They’d had to take a longer route to the dugout to avoid a pack of Brutes out hunting in the brush and jungle.

  “Thank God.” David jumped up as Loner came loping into the clearing and dropped to his knees, allowing Adam and Harm to scramble off. “I thought you were never coming.” He snatched the carton from Adam, then saw the binoculars sticking out of his jeans pocket. “Where did you find those?”

  “They were Agent Chen’s.” Adam briefly explained how and where Loner had found them.

  “Seems we have something to thank your FBI friend for at least,” said David. “Anything that helps us keep tabs on the raptors . . .” He poured a capful of the water and carefully dabbed it onto Lisa’s eyes. They were looking less swollen now, Adam was glad to note. David allowed her a further capful of the precious liquid to drink, then poured another for Harm and Adam.