Titanoboa

by Victor Methos

  The pure horror of it widened her eyes as she realized she would be attracting the attention of others. Mark grabbed her hand and pulled her away. They jumped through the back door. Mark didn’t look around, didn’t survey what was near him and what was not. He had the hotel in his sights, and he intended to focus only on that.

  The façade of the hotel was normal, nothing out of the ordinary. As though it were just another business day. Mark was all the way to the door before he heard the harsh hissing behind them, but he didn’t turn around. He opened the door, pushed Riki through, then followed, slamming it shut behind them. He held the door a moment, but nothing happened. He let go, and they raced through the lobby to the elevator. Mark hit the button going up then scanned the hallway. Nothing.

  The elevator opened, and they hurried on. They headed up to the eighth floor, as high as they could get. When the elevator doors opened, Mark poked his head out and looked down both sides of the hall. Empty. Several chairs and couches were arranged in front of the elevators. Without planning it, Mark collapsed onto one. Complete exhaustion was eating away at everything, even his thoughts.

  “What’re we going to do?” Riki asked.

  “I don’t know. We just need somewhere safe that we can think for a minute.”

  Riki sat down across from him. No sooner had she done so than they heard a thump from down the hallway. They stared at each other a moment, then Mark grudgingly stood up. He eased past the elevators to where he thought the noise had come from, a set of double doors marked MAINTENANCE and a knob. Mark touched the knob, feeling the smooth metal in his hand, then turned. It clicked open and unlocked. He took a deep breath and opened the door a crack.

  At least ten people huddled as tightly as they could in the small space. They must’ve been in there for some time, with the single lightbulb turned off, because most of them were shielding their eyes, unused to anything but darkness.

  Mark recognized one of them. It was the man he had interviewed about Stanley’s disappearance. Miguel something.

  “You guys all right?” Mark asked.

  Miguel rose from the floor. “I remember you.”

  Mark nodded. “Is there anyone else on this floor?”

  “We don’t know. Those things attacked, and we jumped in here.” He swallowed. “We heard… terrible things. Screaming and crying.” He looked at the floor as though embarrassed. “But we couldn’t do anything. We just hid in here.”

  “There was nothing you could’ve done. Right now, though, we need figure out a way to get off this island. Didn’t you say you had a boat?”

  “Yeah, but it’s at the docks. We’d never make it with those things. You should’ve seen how fast they took over the city. It was like…”

  “I know. If we could make it to your boat, could you fit all of us?”

  “Yes.”

  Mark studied each of the people clustered together for familiar faces but saw none. They were all tourists, not a single local among them. “The entire island’s infested with them. We have to get outta here. Eventually, they’ll find us here. They use their tongues to find us. We can’t hide from them for very long.”

  Miguel took a step forward, squinting as the light from the hallway fully hit his eyes. “I’ll go.”

  “Anyone else that wants to come can.” Mark looked at them again. Only one couple stood up, a man and woman in their forties, and stepped out into the hallway. Everyone else remained where they were.

  “If you’re going to stay, then stay here and don’t leave. I’ll send help as soon as we get to the next island. Is everyone certain they’re going to stay here?”

  No one moved. He stepped out, waiting a moment for anyone to change their mind, then shut the door.

  “The docks aren’t that far,” Mark said. “We have a truck. We could get there in less than five minutes.”

  “These things can swim,” Miguel said.

  “We’ll have to worry about that later. I know these waters, and I’ve never seen them. If they do go out into the ocean, they go deep.”

  Inside a glass case in the hallway were a fire extinguisher and an axe. Mark broke the glass with his elbow, sending shards over the carpet, and pulled out the axe. “There’s something I have to do first.”

  42

  The café appeared as quiet and empty as before. Mark left everyone in the pantry. He casually strolled across the pantry, the axe in his hand, pushed open the door to the kitchen, and peered inside.

  The snake was curled firmly, its head resting on its body. The tongue was flicking out, and Mark wondered if snakes slept.

  He rushed through the door, grunted, and lifted the axe over his head. He swung down with everything he had and caught the snake just behind the head. The blade imbedded itself halfway through. The animal screamed in a way he’d never heard anything other than a person scream.

  The snake’s body whipped open, wrapping around Mark’s legs in a flash. Mark pulled the axe out. He had one more shot at the most. He raised the axe and came down nearly in the same spot as before.

  The blade hit the tile of the kitchen floor. He had severed the head from the body, but the body was still twisting and writhing, blood shooting out over the room from the ragged wound. The body slammed into the floor several times, lifting itself back up, and then finally slowed and stopped.

  Mark stood still, his heart beating so hard he thought it might break out of his chest. He lay the axe down on a counter and stumbled back to the pantry. “Let’s go.”

  Everyone followed him in silence. They made their way to the dining area then out into the warm air. The truck was untouched. He looked at Riki, who pulled out the keys. Miguel helped the couple into the bed before getting in himself, and Mark took the passenger seat again.

  Riki’s hand hesitated over the ignition. “Are you sure?”

  “No.”

  She took a deep breath and started the truck. When she pulled away, she did it slowly, keeping the rumble of the engine as low as possible. Once she hit the street, she sped up.

  The streets were completely empty. No one anywhere.

  “There might be other survivors,” Mark said.

  “We can’t do anything for them right now. We have to call in someone to help them.”

  Mark didn’t argue. In his state, swinging an axe twice had nearly done him in. He couldn’t imagine searching a city and trying to dodge those things at the same time.

  They reached the docks. No people were around, and more importantly, no snakes. Riki parked the truck as close to the boats as she could. They got out wordlessly and waited for Miguel. “It’s that one.” He pointed to a yacht moored to a slip.

  The nearest island was only about ten miles directly west, with a few major cities. Mark knew how to get there with nothing but a compass. Then they would notify the police about what had happened. Maybe the media, too. The police usually didn’t do anything unless the public pressured them. From there, it would be their problem.

  Stanley’s boat was moored just a few slips down. Mark thought about the poor bastard. Probably snatched right from his boat and eaten there, or maybe dragged into the water like some slimy fish and devoured in the darkness.

  Miguel hopped onto his yacht and helped the others aboard. Mark sat on the transom because he didn’t want to walk anywhere else. He leaned his head back and watched the night sky lightening with the coming morning. By the time the sun was up, he would be on a different island, in a warm hospital bed.

  “Well now, ain’t this a sight.”

  The voice sent a shiver up Mark’s back. Before he even consciously put a name and face to it, he knew who it was. Steven stepped onto the yacht. He held a rifle in his hands and rested against the handrails.

  “What do you want, Steven? It’s over. This whole thing is over.”

  “It ain’t over yet. See, we got us a team on the way. Clean-up team. Keep all this nice and under wraps. Result of an earthquake, maybe. Something like that.”

 
“Earthquake? No one’s going to believe this was a natural disaster.”

  “People will believe what their televisions tell them to believe. And what’s more plausible: giant prehistoric snakes ate everyone, or there was an earthquake?”

  Anger rushed through him. “That’s insane. You can’t seriously think you’re going to get away with this.”

  “Money buys whatever you want it buy. Silence is actually pretty cheap.” Steven pointed the rifle at him. He looked over at the other people on the vessel then turned his gaze back.

  “So you’re going to kill me?” Mark said.

  “Afraid so, brother. Need you to come with me for now.”

  “So go ahead and—”

  Steven wasn’t the type of man to talk. He was the type of man to take action first. If he was talking, action wasn’t possible. “You don’t have any rounds left,” Mark said. “You would’ve just shot me from the docks if you could’ve. That’s why you’re standing here talking.”

  Steven aimed the rifle at Mark’s face. “You ready to bet your life on that?”

  The possibility existed that he was wrong. That, as exhausted as he was, he just wasn’t thinking right. But it didn’t matter. Mark was sick of this. Sick of this island, sick of Steven, sick of everything he had experienced. If he were going to die, at least he would die on his own terms.

  He jumped up and rushed at Steven, but no gunshots came. Steven swung with the butt of the rifle and caught him in the jaw, causing him to fall back. Still no gunshots came. Mark had been right. He’d run out of rounds, probably shooting at the snakes.

  Steven exhaled loudly. “Good guess, Marky Mark. But it don’t mean a thing.” He pulled out his hunting knife. “Still gonna have to take you out.”

  A rush of water sounded near the boat, like a submarine coming to the surface. A foam spray hit the two men as a wave crashed onto the deck. Something was rising. Something huge.

  Steven turned just as the head arose.

  The head alone was the size of the truck they’d just driven here in. Mark pictured the body, black and glistening in the light of the rising sun, reaching the bottom of the ocean. It was larger than any animal Mark had ever seen, and it was fixated on them.

  Mark rolled to his stomach and leaped away just as the head crashed down into the deck. It swallowed Steven without delivering a single bite, and the head thundered through the fiberglass and wood as though they were children’s toys. It lifted itself and withdrew. The yacht lurched as the snake disappeared into the depths again.

  “Off the boat!”

  Mark helped everyone off as the yacht sank. Only Stanley’s boat looked familiar, and Mark ran to it, everyone else following. Another spray of foamy water and the snake was up again, over the sinking yacht. Its tongue, the width of a man, flicked out as it homed in on its prey.

  It slammed down again into another boat, the crackle of wood echoing in the air as the ship began to sink. Mark jumped onto Stanley’s boat, yelling at the others to head back to the truck. He knew Stanley’s way of fishing. The old man preferred to use dynamite to fishing poles. In the early morning hours, before the police department even opened or other tourists were out, Mark heard the bubbling explosions.

  He raced below deck as the sea erupted again behind him. Below deck were crates of dynamite, lying out in boxes as if nothing more than old souvenirs or clothing. Mark scoured the bedroom for a lighter or matches and found a lighter in a drawer with a carton of cigarettes.

  Before he could reach the dynamite, the boat violently rocked to port, immediately filling with water. It had felt like a plane landed on the ship. It threw Mark against the wall, and he crashed into the floor, already saturated with two feet of water. He pulled himself to his feet and trudged to the crates of dynamite. He took as many sticks as he could carry and strapped them together with duct tape from one of the crates. Holding the bundle high, ensuring the fuses didn’t get wet—not that he was sure it mattered—he climbed back up the steps as the boat tilted to starboard and began to be sucked into the ocean.

  The snake was at the bow, as though waiting for him. The sight of a creature that large filled him with terror. He hadn’t known it was possible for things to grow that big.

  The creature didn’t look real against the backdrop of the sea. Its eyes, the size of globes, observed its surroundings. The beast was something from the deep past, something primordial that struck a chord of horror. The fangs protruded as its mouth opened and released the most horrifying sound Mark had ever heard. A screech that could make his ears bleed.

  He lit the fuses.

  As they crackled and burned, he thought of his daughter. That one day, she would think back to her memories of him and smile. That she would raise her own children with the principles he had taught. To be honest, to help others, and always to do what she loved. That last one had been his mistake. He’d gone into a career he didn’t love because he thought it would impress his father. The same thing would not happen to her. She was strong. Stronger than he ever was. And a sense of peace that she would be just fine in this world imbued him.

  But she still needed her father. And he would be there for her. No damned animal was going to take that away from her.

  As the fuses burned, he tossed the lighter over the water, the snake hissing and shrieking at him.

  “You want me?” He sprinted toward the snake, his feet pounding against the deck, the sea wind against his face. “Come get me, you son of a bitch!”

  The snake opened its jaws and rushed forward, its mouth like a gaping, infected wound, pink and black, rimmed a dark red. The mouth opened, releasing another screech as the snake lifted itself and barreled down on him. Mark tossed the explosives inside just as the enormous black maw nearly enveloped him. He jumped to the side, narrowly missing the head as it crashed through the deck, splintering wood and fiberglass.

  Mark leapt over the side of the boat. The snake whipped itself around, its mouth agape as it rushed toward Mark. A black demon that swam through existence. Fearless, without the slightest hint of hesitation. A screech escaped its throat as it arched over the boat, anticipating sinking its fangs into flesh.

  Just as it was about to close around him, a deafening boom echoed through air. The explosion was like lightning striking him. Intense heat on his back as though he were being cooked in an oven. The instant singeing of his hair, the frying of his skin. And the impact that threw him forward like a doll.

  The ocean was cool against his skin. He struck against it hard and swallowed the briny seawater, choking before it submerged him. The corpse of the snake sizzled, the enormous girth splashing behind him. It slowly sank into the murk, a writhing monster dragged back to where it came from.

  Still under water, he looked up. Down here, it was quiet. Almost peaceful. He just stared at the blue sky, the pain in his back letting him know he was at least still alive, and he closed his eyes as a swell carried him back.

  43

  Riki Howard was released from the hospital in the capital city of Suva after only a day of observation. They had been worried about shock, but that didn’t appear to be an issue. They gave her a sedative to help her sleep and sent her on her way. She threw the sedative into a trash bin and left the hospital.

  She called a cab and asked for Nausori Airport. The cabby drove her there in silence, and she preferred it that way. She didn’t feel like saying anything to anyone right now.

  That morning, she’d read the news reports online. They were calling it the “Disaster of Kalou Island.” A massive earthquake had rocked the small island, the article said, killing scores of people and injuring scores of others. VN had sent in hundreds of crews to assist in the clean up and humanitarian aid, the article continued. Doing its part to help those in need.

  Humanitarian aid.

  The article had made her physically ill. She felt nauseated all morning and consumed some crackers and Sprite to calm her stomach after that. In the end, it didn’t matter. They would say wh
atever they were going to say, and slowly, stories would come out from survivors questioning the veracity of VN’s version of events. At first, they would be considered conspiracy theorists, viewed as crazy or with an agenda. But as more and more came out, people would start questioning what happened. And then investigations would open up, and at some point, someone in VN wouldn’t be able to take the guilt anymore. The whole thing would come out. The truth always did.

  As they passed the beach on the way to the airport, a group of children gathered on the shore staring at something farther out. “Stop here, please,” she said. The cabbie pulled over.

  The children were fixated on something off the beach, and Riki could see it, too. A whale—a humpback, it looked like—with her calf. The massive tail lifted and splashed down to the delight of the children, their laughter and squeals filling the air.

  Riki smiled. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  At the airport, she entered the terminal and saw a figure standing by the metal detectors. Mark, leaning on a cane, smiled at her. They hadn’t wanted to release him from the hospital, as he’d suffered some serious burns, but she had a feeling he wasn’t about to miss this.

  As she approached him, she couldn’t help but grin. “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey.”

  With that, he took her hand and wordlessly led her outside. The elation was like a fire in her belly, somewhere between excitement and anxiety. She had never been a spontaneous person, and about a million things that could go wrong rushed through her mind. But in the end, none of that mattered. It felt right, and that was good enough for her.

  As she walked out of the terminal, she threw her plane ticket back to the States in the trash, never letting go of his hand.

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