by Greig Beck
Matt shook his head. He knew Steinberg couldn’t give a fuck about him, or any of them. “Good luck.”
He turned and followed the others into the red-hued jungle. To Matt, it now looked like hell.
*****
Megan tore madly through the green walls, fighting the vines that clung to her skin and wrapped around her limbs. They whipped at her body and face, making her look like the recipient of a severe lashing. Fear pushed her on. She sucked in air and threw her shoulder into a dense clump of green, breaking through, with Carla landing on top of her.
“What happened …?” Carla wheezed.
“We’re out of it … I think.” Megan levered herself up on her hands and knees, breathing deeply. She spat more of the mashed green plants from her mouth. Every now and then, something particularly unpleasant would end up on their tongues, with Carla doubling over a mile or so back and throwing up.
Megan wiped the sweat from her eyes. After the chaotic tangle of the jungle it was a strange scene – there was no undergrowth for what looked like several miles. The landscape was still punctuated with the same huge tree trunks, as thick as houses, towering hundreds of feet into the air and still meshed together beneath the ever-present red roof of thorned vines. But underneath, at ground level, the grasses were only a few inches high.
“Looks like a park,” Megan observed.
“More like a paddock that’s been grazed – by large herbivores.” Carla kneeled beside her.
Megan got to her feet, surveying the open ground. She turned her head and strained to listen for any sounds of pursuit, then swallowed and used her sodden shirt to wipe her face. She helped Carla to her feet. “Do you think it’s still coming?”
Carla turned back to the jungle. “Maybe, but I think it’ll be … preoccupied with Jian for a while.”
Megan continued to stare into the dark jungle. “He might have got away …” Megan trailed off. In her heart she knew the entomologist hadn’t stood a chance. He knew what he was doing when he got between it and Megan and Carla – sacrificing himself. The thing had descended on him and crushed him to the ground with a clawed foot the size of a manhole. Its jaws had opened wider than anything she had ever seen in her life, and then descended slowly toward the screaming man’s head. That’s when they had turned and fled – she still felt like a coward.
Carla squared her shoulders, trying to pull herself together. “We can’t take the gamble that it will give up. I say we keep heading inward for a few more miles, and then try to loop back.”
Megan turned to look out over the flat ground. Except for a few good-sized lumps, like pitcher’s mounds, it was relatively flat. At a jog, she reckoned she could cross it in under an hour, easy.
“Ready?”
Carla pulled a face. “I don’t like it – it’s too open.”
“We’ve got a head start. This open ground will extend it. I say we go for it, leave some clothing at the other end for it to play with, and then start looping back. That should take it miles away – and I want that freak as far from our camp as we can get it.”
Carla grimaced, obviously unconvinced. “Okay, but don’t slow down for me.”
Megan took a step, then froze. “Wait.”
A single creature that looked like a labrador-sized armadillo waddled into the clearing, stopping to eat something it had found in the grass. It then continued on, untroubled. More of the animals followed, until there were about a dozen of them.
“There are your herbivores, I think.” Megan pointed. “Well, if they’re okay, we certainly will be.” She turned and gave Carla a nervous grin. “And besides, if that big mother chasing us enters the clearing, I’m betting we can run faster than any of those little sawn-off guys.”
And with that, they started to run.
CHAPTER 19
Steinberg looked down at the strange bird in the cage next to him. It cocked its head and glared back at him. He leaned in close and it backed away, hissing, and dropping a few shimmering feathers. He stuck a finger into the cage and slid one out, lifting it and twirling it in his fingers, delighting in the way the light played on its iridescent highlights.
“You know what, buddy? It’s all your goddamn fault.”
The bird continued to watch him suspiciously. He rummaged in his pack and pulled out a tiny plastic bag, placing the feather inside and then sealing it. “That’s for Kurt’s hat, payment for selling me out, when we get home … if we fucking get home from this goddamn shithole of a jungle.”
He pushed the bag into the folds of Kurt’s pack and then sat back on a rock at the edge of the pond. The humidity was still oppressive, and he flicked small stones into the black water, the heat making it look almost inviting.
He stared hard at it. “I can do this.” He pulled the facemask onto his forehead and lifted one of the larger plastic bags, gauging how much air he’d need to include for the bird, and how much extra weight he’d need to compensate for the additional buoyancy. He tried to remember how long the swim was, and whether there were any bends or twists in the underwater cave.
He shook his head, lost with the complexity of it all. “Fuck it. This wasn’t supposed to be my job, you know. Someone could drown.” He looked at the bird and grinned. “And guess which one of us that’s likely to be.”
He laughed without mirth, and flicked one of the stones into the cage, eliciting a satisfying hiss. “I bet you taste like chicken.” He laughed again, the guffaws quickly turning into heavy breaths, more from nerves than fatigue.
“Ah, fuck.” He pulled the mask off his head.
*****
Kurt slowed and then stopped. He didn’t need to raise his hand; everyone froze. They knew the dangers of following the huge animal’s trail, and that being alert could be the difference between life and death. Kurt had holstered his gun, but Matt knew from the way his hand constantly hovered nearby that it could be in his hand in the blink of an eye.
Matt had cut a tree branch, about six feet long and sharpened at one end. It needed fire-hardening, but it was sharp enough to penetrate flesh, and long enough that he felt it would keep something at bay, at least for a short period of time. Joop had done the same and John held some sort of bent club, a little like a boomerang.
They eased forward, one slow step at a time, over broken trees and bent palm fronds, until they stepped out into a clearing of depressed grasses. It was a bowl-shaped enclosure that had been pressed flat, as if a large dog had circled before settling down with a bone. Which is almost exactly what had happened.
Joop jammed a hand over his mouth, and Kurt swore softly. He drew his gun and then turned to John.
“Can you find out who it … err, was?”
Kurt and Joop stayed at the edge of the clearing while John walked forward. Matt was right on his heels, silently praying it wasn’t Megan.
The pile of offal was obviously the less palatable bits of a body – intestines, larger bones, and gristle. There was no sign of anything else, except for a red abraded ball-like object at the clearing’s edge. John made for this, and, without any hint of disgust, picked it up and turned it over.
Matt winced – there were no features left, and it was impossible to tell who it had been. It looked like something had tried to grind the meat from the hard bone of the skull; large gouges had been carved into the tough bone of the brow, which still flapped with a few scraps of bloody hair.
John grunted. “Male – Jian.”
Matt exhaled. Despite the horrifying loss, he couldn’t help feeling a little relieved. “Are you sure?”
John nodded. “Yes, I’m sure. Poor chap – stronger jawbone, more prominent supraorbital ridges – definitely male.”
Kurt spoke softly from behind them. “We can’t stay here, this’ll draw scavengers … and more predators.”
Matt turned quickly. “Only one body, and no sign of Megan and Carla.”
Kurt nodded, and pointed to where the grasses were compressed at the far edge of the clearing. “They
’ve got a head start, but time is against us.”
Joop joined them; his face looked green. “Poor Jian.”
Matt looked back down at the mess. Jian had been obliterated. Probably eaten alive; nothing left but his guts and head. Maybe I should say something, he thought, searching for the right words.
Kurt had already started walking. “We don’t want to be here anymore. C’mon.”
John patted Matt on the shoulder, and then used it to get to his feet. “He’s right. Our priority is the living now. Let’s find our friends.”
Matt knew they were right. There was nothing anyone could do for Jian, and nobody was even going to spend five minutes trying to bury the remains. Find Megan and Carla and then get the hell outta here, that was the plan … the only plan. He grabbed his spear and jogged after them.
*****
The massive beast moved like a Mack truck through the tangled undergrowth, pausing to lower its head and inhale. The small animals it followed had left stomach fluid on the soil surface, and it was sharp with fear and fatigue.
A long, leathery tongue snaked out to lick at the miniscule drops. It wanted them – it had tasted one, and the meat was soft and salty, with no bony plates, spines, or stinging poison sacs. It wanted more. It would gorge itself on the creatures, and then return to its lair and regurgitate the meat to consume over a number of days.
It lifted its head, too large for its body, the skin drawn tight over the large knobbly, box-like structure. Megan had thought it a cross between a deformed rhino and a crocodile, a monstrous dinosaur, but the reality was it was related to neither – it was something far more primitive than the ancient saurians.
It sniffed deeply, inhaling the scents still hanging in the humid air. Small eyes stared hard into the misted landscape, but they were not its primary sense. It shook its bulk, small parasites falling free from shoulders fifteen feet from the ground. It was twice as long as it was high, and its twenty-ton bulk was supported by column-like legs ending in broad clawed feet, each with articulated toes. It could stand on its hind legs for short periods of time, and grip things if it needed to. It sniffed again, its long head coming around to fix in one direction.
The mouth opened almost half the length of its skull. Its ancestry was akin to that of a reptile, but with warm blood its family sat somewhere in between mammals and reptiles on the distant evolutionary scale. One day it would evolve into something very different – smaller and more benign. But in here, it was a mountain of talons, teeth and horned bone, one of the crater’s fearsome rulers.
Saber-like teeth, still strung with gristly tendons and fragments of clothing, snapped together as it moved its bulk forward slowly. It was capable of short bursts of speed, but would preserve these for when its prey was in sight.
It followed the scent trail, which gave it a clear path forward in the red-misted landscape.
*****
Steinberg sat on a rock and chewed at a stick of dried mystery meat that Moema had prepared a few days back. It was salty and tough, but high in energy and, he had to admit, quite tasty. But he struggled to enjoy his meal as his thoughts tumbled and fell over each other.
He grimaced and rolled his shoulders, the movement doing nothing to ease the discomfort he felt over his torso. He was itchy as fuck, and wanted a warm bath. He looked toward the calm water. He could try and swim back through; he could do it. He’d need to convince Moema to take him back without the rest of the team. The Brazilian might baulk, but so what? He could try and make it by himself.
He looked at the bird, holding its ruby red gaze for a few seconds before exhaling slowly. “Who the fuck am I kidding? I wouldn’t last a day.”
He ran stubby fingers up across his thinning pate. That Kearns guy was right; once he got to the US, how was he supposed to get the animal back in? He threw his head back. “I need some fucking help here.”
His voice bounced off the crater wall and he sat forward, biting another chunk off the meat. He looked across at the cage; the bird was looking intently at the meat in his hand.
“What, you want some? Or are you thinking about ripping my eyes out?” He snorted and broke off about half an inch of the tough meat and tossed it into the cage. The bird watched it drop, and then bobbed its head to fix its eyes back on him.
Steinberg sat back, looking at the bird. “Don’t trust me, huh? Not many do. Go on, it’s good.”
The bird lowered its head to the morsel and snapped it up, chewing in a very un-bird-like fashion – more like that of a dog.
“Good?” Max watched it for a few seconds. “So, ugly bird, what should I do?”
The bird swallowed and then lifted its head, puffed up its luminescent feathers, and shat on the cage floor.
“That’s your only opinion?”
The bird cocked its head and looked past Max out into the jungle.
Max grunted. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He took a larger piece of the meat and tossed it into the cage. “Be here when I get back.” He grabbed a pack, stuffing in a water bottle, knife, and anything else he thought might be of use, then stood and turned to the jungle, took a single step, then paused, looking back over his shoulder. He returned to the other packs and removed the breathing apparatus from each one, stuffing them all into a single bag, along with some of the remaining meat.
“In case they get back first; now they’ll wait for me … whether they like it or not.” He laughed croakily, then dragged the bag to the jungle’s edge and hid it under a pile of fallen branches before lifting his own pack and throwing it over his shoulder.
“Just keeping them safe, okay?” He winked at the bird, which regarded him coldly with its ruby red gaze.
*****
From behind a wall of fronds, she silently watched the giant move clumsily from the clearing. The two-legs was similar to her, but larger, more cumbersome, and was a strange skinless-pink. Once the sounds of its departure receded into the jungle, she moved quickly into the camp, rummaging through the bags and boxes, stopping to peer in at the caged bird. She knew of the animal from the jungle, but never ate them, as they tasted bad.
The bird hissed, and she hissed in return, slapping the cage and eliciting even more agitated sounds from inside. The bird dropped its chunk of meat. She immediately jammed two small dark fingers in through the bars and snatched the morsel from the cage floor, stuffing it into her mouth. It was good.
She sniffed deeply, moving her head to inhale all the odors of the camp. There had been more of them. Moving cautiously to the pile of logs and fern fronds, she easily found the bag the tall one had secreted. Tearing it open, she found more of the meat, and some other strange things inside. She decided to take them all.
The skinless giants were even stranger than the brown skins that used to come every full moon.
The bag was heavy, but she was strong. She followed the pink giant.
*****
Megan could have made it to the other side in twenty minutes, running flat out. Although her body ached and her lungs burned, adrenalin and fear powered muscles that were still long and youthful. However, behind her, Carla’s breathing was ragged, and she half-loped, her body running on reserves only. Megan slowed to allow the older woman to catch up.
“I said … don’t wait … for me.” Carla gasped out the words.
“Save your breath and keep—” There was a screech, and Megan’s head whipped around. She slowed further.
She was sure it had come for the herd of small animals. But they all seemed to be there, just frozen and looking slightly confused. She slowed to a walk. “Did you hear that?”
Carla looked at the jungle perimeter, a massive green wall bordering the clearing. “Of course. Maybe just a—”
Another screech. This time the small animals were clearly agitated, moving back and forth, a chittering noise rising from their huddle. One of the small beasts made a break from the pack. It had crossed about twenty paces of open ground before there was a blur of movement and it simply
… disappeared. Megan frowned, not sure what she had just seen. One second the animal had been there, the next there was a terrified scream, and then it was gone.
“What … what just happened? What the hell just happened?” Megan stopped and swung left and right. Carla came up beside her and the women stood back-to-back, dead center in the massive clearing.
“I don’t know – it just … went. And look, the pack … it’s smaller now. I’m sure of it.”
The animals’ small eyes were wide. Even from that distance, the women could see how terror made the whites show clearly around the orbs. Instead of fleeing, the armadillo creatures had formed into a tight knot of bodies, armored shoulders and heads pointed to the outside and young at the very center. Like a many-legged beast they edged toward the side of the jungle they had come from, but as they came close to one of the manhole-sized mounds the women had observed, the mound itself flipped up like a jack-in-the-box, and long black shiny legs shot out and grabbed one of the small beasts, dragging it inside.
“Oh shit, it’s more of the goddamn spiders.”
Carla groaned. ‘Worse, they’re fully grown – look, it’s the size of a Rottweiler.”
Megan’s head whipped around as she noticed that they were about ten feet from one of the mounds. Looking down, she could see silken lines leading from the lump – trip-wires. She was sure if she approached any further, she would be able to see the tips of feet, each resting lightly on a thread, and the lid open just a crack so that eight alien eyes could fix firmly on her.
Her heart thumped in her chest. She could almost feel the spider’s unblinking gaze and knew that the powerful, elongated body would be waiting, hard carapace-covered muscles coiled in the darkness, ready to spring out and grab her, inject her with venom, and then drag her down to be sucked dry like the Eohippus. She almost vomited.
“We can still make it. We need … to keep moving.” Even to her own ears, her words sounded shuddery and small. Megan grabbed Carla’s hand and together they walked toward the far side of the clearing, giving the mounds as much clearance as they could manage.