by Jake Bible
If he could get through that part of the jungle then he would have a chance. A small chance, but still a chance.
***
“I’ll give you one more chance, Mr. DeBruhl,” Jowarski said. “Just play along with me and answer my questions and you could get yourself out of this room alive.”
“That’s one damn empty promise,” Popeye said. “What happens when I get out of this room alive? You kill me out there?”
“I do not want you dead, Mr. DeBruhl,” Jowarski sighed. “I want you alive and cooperative. But those work hand in hand. Cooperate and stay alive.”
Popeye studied Jowarski for a few seconds then nodded. “Fine. I became a sailor because it was a way to escape without running away. I had a future, if I worked hard enough. And I’m a damned hard worker. You don’t become boatswain without busting your ass over and over again.”
“Do you like the sea?” Jowarski asked.
“I love it,” Popeye said. “More than anything else. Besides my own hide.”
“Is that so? I would think after the first encounter with the giant sharks that you would have considered a new line of work,” Jowarski said. “To save that hide. Signing on permanently with Ballantine was not exactly the best move towards self-preservation.”
“I didn’t sign on with Ballantine,” Popeye said. “I signed on with Darren, with Marty, with Cougher and the rest of the crew.”
“Gunnar? Dr. Peterson? Was he part of that as well?” Jowarski asked.
“Gun was there, yeah, but he was more like the ship’s mascot,” Popeye said.
“Really?” Jowarski laughed. “I had you pegged for that role.” He glanced down at Popeye’s stump. “No pun intended.”
“The mascot helps with morale,” Popeye said, ignoring the slight. “I’m boatswain. Morale is important, but not my priority. My priority is making sure the ship runs to its highest efficiency. Sometimes you have to take a shit on morale for that to happen. Gun always knew how to break the tension and keep the crew from getting too pissy.”
“Why do you think that is?” Jowarski asked.
“He grew up around the Thornes and Darren,” Popeye replied. “If you are part of that crowd then you learn how to diffuse tension in a hurry or you’ll get chewed up and spit out.”
“Have the Thornes always been such a violent family?” Jowarski asked. “Were they aggressive even back then?”
“Military families sometimes are,” Popeye shrugged. “But I don’t know enough about them to say what their history is. I do know that Kinsey is one tough-as-nails firecracker. You cross her and you’ll be holding your junk in your hands before you can blink. Her dad ain’t much better.”
“What about Mr. Chambers? Is he just as dangerous?” Jowarski asked.
“Darren? Nah. He has anger management issues, but then so does pretty much everyone I know,” Popeye said. “He can keep the anger in check. Unless you mess with Gun or Kinsey. Then I’d say he’s probably not the guy you want to be around.”
“He’s protective of them?” Jowarski asked.
“Hell yeah,” Popeye said. “He loves that girl like nobody’s business. He’d kill, die, come back to life, and kill again for her. Same for Gunnar. Those two are thicker than brothers.”
“Speaking of brothers,” Jowarski smiled. “Tell me about the Reynolds boys. How do they fit into the family dynamic?”
“The Reynolds? Shit, those two are misfits of the worst kind,” Popeye replied. “They never shut up and never stop cracking wise. Drives Thorne nuts. Drives most of us nuts. But you gotta love ‘em.”
“Why is that?” Jowarski asked.
“Because they know their jobs and they are great at them,” Popeye replied. “Drive you nuts or not, them boys can shoot, can fight, can find a way to survive. Shit, look at them. All burned and torn up. One’s missing half his face and the other is missing an eye. See ‘em with their shirts off and it’s nothing but a fucking Rand McNally map of scars on display.”
Popeye started to say something else, but stopped and shook his head.
“What? What is it?” Jowarski asked.
“Nothing,” Popeye said. “Just thought about how Max looked at that Darby woman. Makes me think of how Darren looks at Kinsey. Funny how shit happens on a boat.”
“Darby?” Jowarski asked, leaning forward quickly. “What does Darby have to do with Max Reynolds?”
“Ha!” Popeye laughed. “Ain’t that the question of the century! What could a stone-cold chick like that see in a clown like him? Don’t make a lick of sense. Personally, I’d be scared to death to be alone with that woman.”
“You are not the only one, Mr. DeBruhl,” Jowarski said. “That’s a wild animal being domesticated. It never ends well.”
***
The sound of rushing water drove Dr. Chen on. Not that the sound of the trees behind him being broken and mangled wasn’t enough to keep his ass moving. It was plenty. But those were sounds that almost made him want to fall in a heap and just lie on the ground in the fetal position. The rushing water meant he was close to escape. Close to maybe surviving the nightmare that his day had become.
He stumbled and nearly ran headlong into the trunk of what he guessed was in the metasequoia family. The massive redwood-like tree had to be nearly forty feet wide and stretched up into the air almost farther than the man could see. He shoved himself away from the giant conifer and stumbled around the massive trunk.
His breath caught as he saw what was before him. The edge of the jungle was backed up against a sheer cliff. Dr. Chen hurried to the edge, careful of the crumbling earth beneath his feet. He looked left and saw a way to get down, but he knew he didn’t have time for that path. The monster behind him was only a few paces, a few collapsed and crushed trees, from snatching him up in its oversized jaws.
To the right, close to a hundred yards away, was a majestic waterfall that would give sightseers and photographers heart attacks from its beauty alone. It roared over the edge of the cliff, falling at least a hundred feet before turning into a rainbow mist against the hidden rocks and boulders of the river below. Dr. Chen could reach the waterfall, but he doubted he could survive the fall.
Unless he changed, which he had been loathe to do despite the others’ assurances it was the most amazing thing ever.
It was a hard choice, one made even harder by the constant pounding of giant feet coming for him.
Die from beast or die from waterfall? Stay himself or become something else entirely?
He made his choice and sprinted to the right just as the trees behind him were turned into nothing but splinters and toothpicks. Woody shrapnel exploded around him and he screamed as he felt new wounds added to his already marred body. There were a million ways he could die in the next few minutes, but only one chance at survival.
The ubiquitous roar shoved at him like a strong wind. He ignored it, blocked it out, focused only on the waterfall ahead of him. One hundred yards became eighty, became fifty, became twenty, became nothing.
Hesitancy was death and the man didn’t want to die so he did not hesitate. He reached the edge and kept going, leaping out as far as his fatigued legs would carry him. His arms pinwheeled and the scream of fear he bellowed changed pitch and tone until it became a wail of survival, a plea to anything that would listen to save him from being an impossible monster’s meal.
Or snack. Yeah, he was only snack-sized for the creature that charged at him.
He turned in the air, his body already changing, and caught sight of the creature that had been pursuing him—a tower of a beast with a huge body, short arms, a head nearly as big as its torso, and powerful legs that looked like nothing but quivering muscle. Which they were.
He could feel his own quivering muscles as he turned into whatever he would turn into.
That was the thought in his head as he hit the water and was spun about by the force of the river that fell from above.
Dr. Chen was swept down, down, down, away from the ed
ge of the cliff, away from the beast, that nightmare made of muscle and violence, away from the world above and into the world below. He took a deep breath and then lost it instantly as his back impacted with a heavy boulder. He roared and choked on water, his heavy body pulled downriver by the immense power of nature.
Whether that nature was actually natural or not, was up for debate.
***
“What locations or destinations did Ballantine ever talk about?” Jowarski asked. “Any special places he was fond of? Possible vacations he’d taken in the past? Maybe even a bucket list of travel spots he wanted to see?”
Popeye blinked a few times then scrunched up his face and leaned as far forward as the restraints would allow. “Do you even know Ballantine?”
“I’ve met the man, yes,” Jowarski replied. “I understand those seem like strange questions for someone like Ballantine, but I have to be thorough.”
“Yeah, thorough,” Popeye chuckled. “You must be desperate to ask questions like that. I’d think Ballantine’s wifey would know those things. Why the hell ask me?”
“Dr. Ballantine has not had the privilege of her husband’s company in some time,” Jowarski replied. “But we’ll keep that between you and me.” He waited with his pen poised above his clipboard.
Popeye shook his head and leaned back. “Ballantine didn’t share.”
“Is that so?” Jowarski asked. “Nothing while you and the rest of the crew travelled with him over the open oceans? Nothing before, during, or after one of your many monster missions? He didn’t say anything off handedly? A quick joke or sarcastic remark?”
“The guy was always saying quick jokes and sarcastic remarks,” Popeye said. “That was all he said. You couldn’t get a straight answer out of him if you jammed ten feet of reinforced steel up his ass.”
“Colorful,” Jowarski said. “So, no off-hand comments about places he wanted to visit or had visited?”
“You sure don’t listen for a guy asking a bunch of questions,” Popeye said. “There were no off-hand comments with Ballantine. The guy was as controlled as they get. If he said something then he meant to say it whether he pretended to or not. Nothing to chance with that one.”
“Yes, we are aware of that,” Jowarski said.
“What did you do to him?” Popeye asked. “Why are you so afraid of Ballantine?”
Jowarski shook his head and gave Popeye a wan smile.
“Commander Thorne,” Jowarski said. “Where does he stand with Ballantine? Are the two co-leaders?”
“I don’t think they know,” Popeye said. “Ballantine always says Thorne is in charge of Team Grendel, but Ballantine is an A-plus control freak, so I don’t think he lets anyone be in charge of anything.”
“Do they fight? Quarrel? Bicker?” Jowarski asked.
“All those words mean the same thing,” Popeye said. “And yeah, they do. Or did. Don’t know what they do now. They could be dead for all I know.”
“I doubt they are,” Jowarski said.
“Really? Why you think that?” Popeye asked.
The wan smile returned to Jowarski’s face.
***
Dr. Chen’s face felt a thousand pounds too heavy. The skin and muscle swelled, puffing up from the collision with the many boulders that he’d encountered as he was shoved down under the water, pummeled by the waterfall and the river itself. At least the water was cold enough to numb the pain slightly. But only slightly.
He grasped at the edge of the riverbank, his fingers impossibly long and grey. He gripped sturdy roots that dripped down into the river, thirsty for relief from the tropical sun that beat relentlessly on the island. Dr. Chen tugged at the roots, wrapped his hands about them, pulled, but he made no headway. He just didn’t have the strength to get himself out of the water. He’d spent every last bit of energy staying alive. Any energy he did have deep down in reserve would have to be used to keep from drowning at the edge of the river.
And to change back. If he could figure out how. The others hadn’t said how they did it.
Far above, half a mile away, stood the monster, its jaws open, its throat rippling as it bellowed. It raged, stomping back and forth, crushing anything and everything in its path at the top of the waterfall. It kicked boulders, sending them rocketing out and down.
Dr. Chen flinched and cried out as one of the boulders came within twenty feet of him. It was as big as a Volkswagen Beetle and probably weighed twice as much. He knew he couldn’t stay where he was. The creature kept looking for a way down off the cliff, hunting for a path that would hold it and allow it to come down and finish the job it started. The man didn’t understand why. The thing should have given up a long time ago.
But then nothing on the island acted like it should. Every one of their grand plans fell apart in a swirling rush of exploding metal and roaring flames. Catalysts catalyzed what they shouldn’t have and the growth that resulted was exponential. What should have taken years, and on a much smaller scale, happened in less than a week.
And still happened.
Dr. Chen’s muscles felt like they were detached from his bones, floating inside his skin sack, ready to dissolve and melt if they were exposed to the air. But somehow he managed to move from his spot, reaching up and grabbing roots hand over hand, using them to propel himself down the river and well out of sight of the pacing, stomping, bellowing creature.
He was grateful for one thing and that was the giant creature seemed to have scared off any other animals that may have been lurking close to the water. Hard to miss the sound of a seventy-five foot beast ripping through the jungle. The other fauna of the island had plenty of warning that it was a good time to make themselves scarce.
Of course, they didn’t just disappear. They went somewhere. And after nearly a half hour of slow, careful, hand-over-hand movement, Dr. Chen found out where they went.
He came around a bend in the river and stopped. There, wading in a large pool that had formed on the opposite side, stood six creatures that shouldn’t exist. In fact, they never would have if he hadn’t personally entered the sequence into the matrix facilitator. That felt like a hundred years ago.
Modeled closely on the spinosaurus, the creatures snapped and hissed at each other, jostling for position to catch the many Mawsonia-like fish that flopped in the shallow pool. The fish must have also been scared downstream, retreating from their deep pool haven at the bottom of the waterfall.
Dr. Chen watched, terrified yet also fascinated as the spinosauruses seemed to compete with each other, but also work in harmony to keep as many of the Mawsonia from fleeing further downstream. It was not a hunting behavior he would have even guessed the spinosauruses were capable of.
But then part of the reason the island existed was to see what all the creatures were capable of. Just not on the scale that occurred. No, the scale they had wanted was maybe ten percent of what had occurred. A controlled, and controllable, group of miniatures, all studied and observed from the perfect safety of a contained facility.
Dr. Chen shook his head at their hubris. How they thought they could create living prehistoric dioramas without anything going wrong was ludicrous. He looked at his hands, his incredibly misshapen hands, and shook his head, feeling the weight of his enlarged cranium strain his neck.
He was about to cry when his hands started to return to normal, to shift and shrink before his eyes. Dr. Chen marveled at the transformation, not even kidding himself that he knew how the entire process was even possible. An island of impossibilities. He had to wonder if he was lucky or cursed to be a part of it all.
Those were the last thoughts that ran through his head as the creature above him, rising out of the dirt and mud of the riverbank, opened its jaws wide and lunged.
***
Captain Marty Lake and Chief Engineer Morgan “Cougher” Colfer stopped what they were doing and looked from the deck of the Beowulf III and out at the bay they had just sailed into.
“D? You hear that?”
Lake called.
“Yeah,” Darren Chambers replied over the com.
Lake turned to the bridge and Darren stuck his head out, looking at the white sand beach that surrounded the crystal blue bay.
“That sounded like a person,” Darren said over the com.
“That was for sure human,” Max Reynolds added, joining the com conversation.
“Totally human,” his brother Shane agreed. There was the sound of something being sucked and then a cough and a slow exhale. “Man, I am so glad that Lucy totally snagged some of our stash and hid it from us.”
“Not the time, Shane,” Darren said.
“Are there people on that island?” Cougher asked.
“Ballantine said he didn’t see any signs of his science staff surviving what he said was a pretty fucking big explosion,” Lake replied. “But it stands to reason someone made it out in one piece.”
“Not anymore, man,” Max said, immediately making his own sucking, coughing, exhaling sound. “Dude. This shit is harsh. We need to teach the Luce how to take better care of her weed.”
“Take a look at that island,” Shane said. “We could grow our own. Gunnar has seeds. I know he does. Somewhere down in his lab. He’s a sneaky bastard.”
“Guys!” Darren shouted. “Shut up about the weed! Nobody cares about your weed!”
There were several loud grumbles of disagreement over the com.
“Jesus, how many people are in on this conversation?” Darren asked.
“Pretty much all essential personnel,” Lake said. “I called on an open channel.”
“Did I hear correctly that a person may have screamed from the island?” Ballantine asked as he stepped from a hatch and onto the main deck.
Mid-forties, dressed in his usual khakis and polo shirt, Ballantine looked like a golf pro with a psychotic twinkle in his eye. Fit, tan, muscular, he moved with a confidence and ease that made most that came in contact with him less than confident and very uneasy. He held a pair of high-powered binoculars and turned to face the island.