Mega 4: Behemoth Island

by Jake Bible

  A red bird dino swooped down at them and Thorne took it out with a well-placed blast. His plasma rifle beeped and he looked at Darby as they got moving again.

  “Six more shots, maybe,” Darby said to Thorne. “Make the best of them.”

  Thorne nodded. He had a pistol on his hip and a knife strapped to his leg, all thanks to the weapons cache they had found in the cave, but as a second roar shook the trees that lined the small clearing, he knew they would be as effective as toothpicks and spitballs against the thing coming for them.

  “We do what we can,” Thorne said. “We get Lucy and the others to the Zodiac and make sure they can get back to the ship. Understood?”

  “Understood,” Darby said. She swung to the left and fired into the trees. An explosion of blood and bone filled the shadows and spilled out over the ferns that swayed in the island breeze.

  Team Grendel kept moving, kept fighting, kept on surviving as they dove into the jungle at the far end of the clearing.

  Chapter Eleven- Company

  “What exactly is it you’re looking for?” Popeye asked as he was shoved forward by Jowarski. “It’s just a ship.”

  “The Beowulf is hardly just a ship,” Dana said.

  “Beowulf III,” Popeye said.

  “Beowulf IV, to be more accurate,” Dana said. “But I can see how Ballantine would prefer to forget the very first ship that bore the name. It was not a good time in our marriage. We don’t talk about that.”

  Popeye shook his head. “You people are messed up.”

  “Just get us to Ballantine’s personal quarters,” Jowarski said. “He’ll have his files stashed there.” He glanced at Dana. “You sure you can get his safe open? We have techs on our ship that can crack it in only a few minutes.”

  “No, I can do it,” Dana said. “He hasn’t changed the combination. He’d never do that.”

  “Doesn’t seem like a secure way to go about keeping anything safe,” Jowarski said. “Amateur, if you ask me.”

  “I didn’t,” Dana said.

  “I ain’t never been in Ballantine’s personal quarters,” Popeye said. “I didn’t think the man needed any since I ain’t never seen him sleep.”

  “Hard to see a man sleep if you’ve never been to where he sleeps,” Jowarski said. “That’s called logic, Mr. DeBruhl.”

  “You can cram that logic up your ass,” Popeye said.

  The party kept moving down the passageway. Popeye noted the destruction to the walls and ceiling and shook his head. The damage had the guards that flanked Popeye, Jowarski, and Dana, on edge and Popeye looked over to see more than a couple trigger fingers looking mighty itchy.

  “Careful,” Popeye said. “You start firing in here and we’re likely to get killed by a ricochet.”

  “My men know their jobs, Mr. DeBruhl,” Jowarski said. “You just need to know yours. Get us to Ballantine’s quarters.”

  “It’s this way,” Popeye said and took them through a mangled hatchway and into another damaged passageway. “What in hell did they do to my ship?”

  They had gotten to the middle of the passageway when the wall on their left began to shimmer then disappear completely.

  “Hello,” Ronald said just before he reached out of the Toyshop and ripped one of the guard’s head off. “Goodbye.”

  A second guard spun about to fire at the gigantopithecus, but he stopped in mid turn and let go of his rifle, his hands going to the open wound across his throat. Blood poured from between his fingers and he collapsed to his knees.

  “What the fuck?” Jowarski yelled as he pulled a pistol from his hip and fired at Ronald.

  Ronald cried out as blood bloomed from his right shoulder. Then the cry turned into a wall rumbling growl of rage.

  “Oh, shit,” Jowarski said. He turned and ran, leaving the guards to stand there, their mouths wide open as the impossible creature closed on them.

  “That’s new,” Popeye said to Dana.

  Two more guards went down with slashed throats before they could get a shot off. The second to last guard was ripped limb from limb by Ronald before the very last guard dropped his rifle and held his hands above his head.

  “I don’t want to die!” the man shouted, dropping to his knees. “Please don’t kill me, Bigfoot!”

  “I do not like being called Bigfoot!” Ronald roared as he grabbed them man by the helmet and lifted him up off his knees. One shake, one snap, and it was all over. The body fell to the floor as Ronald opened his hand. “It is rude to call someone of my intelligence and learning the name of a mythical creature.”

  “I wouldn’t say mythical,” Gunnar stated as he materialized next to Dana, a combat knife in his hand and the blade pressed to the woman’s throat. “I mean, come on, Ronald, you do have family in the Pacific Northwest that get spotted sometimes.”

  “That does not mean I have to accept the Bigfoot moniker,” Ronald said. “I do have dignity.”

  “Gunnar? That you?” Popeye asked, looking at the suited figure standing next to Dana.

  Gunnar pulled back the mesh that obscured his head and face and grinned at Popeye. “Popeye? What the fuck, man? You’re dead!”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Popeye said. “But I ain’t.”

  “I can see that,” Gunnar said.

  Popeye turned and stared at Ronald.

  “Oh, sorry,” Gunnar said, the blade still pressed to Dana’s throat. “Popeye DeBruhl, this is Ronald. Ronald, Popeye. Ronald joined us when we reached the other island, but you were dead by then.”

  “Nice to meet ya,” Popeye said. He sort of held his hand out. “Do we shake?”

  “Of course,” Ronald said, enveloping the small man’s hand in his massive hairy one. “Decorum doesn’t go away just because there are bodies on the ground.”

  Ronald grinned big and Popeye struggled not to shy away from the huge mouth full of equally huge teeth.

  “Since we’re doing introductions,” Popeye said, nodding to Dana. “This is Dana Ballantine. Our Ballantine’s wife.”

  “Hello, Ronald,” Dana said.

  “Dana, a pleasure to see you again,” Ronald said. “You may remove the knife from her throat, Gunnar. Dr. Ballantine will no longer be a threat.”

  “Did you say this is Ballantine’s wife?” Gunnar asked.

  “Yes, and we are old friends,” Ronald said. “It was she that introduced me to Ballantine and made it possible for me to take my position with Boris.” Ronald smacked his forehead. “Oh, dear me.” He turned back to the Toyshop. “It is safe to come out now.”

  Moshi, Carlos, Boris, and Dr. Morganton all peeked around the various shelves of equipment inside the Toyshop.

  “Moshi!” Dana said and held out her arms.

  Moshi frowned and shook her head back and forth then disappeared deeper into the Toyshop.

  “Dana,” Carlos nodded.

  “Carlos,” Dana replied and glared.

  “Whatever,” Carlos sighed.

  ***

  All heads turned from the island and towards the other ship as the first screams echoed across the gap.

  “Uh oh,” Ballantine said to the guards. “Sounds like you may have a spot of trouble over there. You guys go help your friends. I’ll keep an eye on the ladies here. What? No? Okay, but don’t say I didn’t try to help.”

  A claxon blared on the other ship and the screams increased despite the added noise. Men began to scramble across the upper deck and someone was shouting from the bridge. The sound of metal being ripped apart was almost as loud as the claxon.

  “Someone over there is not a happy camper,” Ballantine said.

  The guards turned to the other ship and raised their rifles. A couple of them took tentative steps towards the gangplank then stopped as they watched crumpled body after crumpled body being tossed out of one of the hatchways.

  Then more metal ripped and shrapnel was sent flying everywhere as the Harris-Logan thing exploded out from the lower decks and back into the open air.

/>   “This will be my ship!” the monster bellowed.

  “I think he just called dibs, guys,” Ballantine said to the guards. “Are you going to let him get away with that?”

  “I will take this ship and I will leave this Hell!” the Harris-Logan thing roared.

  The guards on the B3 looked at each other then took aim and started firing.

  The Harris-Logan thing turned towards them and waved its massive hands like it was batting away annoying gnats. Small dots of red appeared on its massively muscled chest, but it did not seem to affect the beast one bit.

  “MY SHIP!” the Harris-Logan thing bellowed as it picked up a hatch door that had been torn free and threw it across the gap to the B3.

  Only a couple of guards were able to get out of the way in time as the hatch door flew at them. The rest were ripped in half. Ballantine barely had time to duck and let the bloody door fly over his head.

  “Good toss, Timothy!” Ballantine yelled as he stood back up. “Almost got them all!”

  The remaining guards got back to their feet and opened fire again. The Harris-Logan thing roared at them then was lost from sight as it dove below decks once more.

  “I think he’s going back for seconds,” Ballantine said.

  The two guards left turned on Ballantine, rifles up and smoking.

  “What was that thing?” one of the guards asked. “That something you made? Jowarski’s going to—”

  The guard didn’t get to finish as two legs suddenly wrapped about his neck, yanking him over backwards. The snapping of vertebrae wasn’t quite loud enough to be heard over the chaos coming from the other ship, but everyone on deck got the gist of what had happened as the guard’s head turned at a very unnatural angle.

  The second guard spun about and took aim at the owner of the two legs, but he didn’t get a shot off as Ingrid rammed him from the side. He stumbled and fell towards Ballantine. All the man had to do was step aside and stick out a foot. The guard tripped and flipped end over end across the railing and was lost from sight. Ballantine nodded when he heard the splash. He smiled when he heard the screams as what was in the water found a fresh meal.

  “We do make a fine team,” Ballantine said.

  Kinsey unlocked her legs from the dead guard’s neck and stood up. She turned around and showed her zip ties to Ballantine.

  “Your hands are in front,” she said. “You think you can get the knife from his belt and cut me loose?”

  “My pleasure, Ms. Thorne,” Ballantine said.

  He started to crouch then dove instead, taking Kinsey and Ingrid out at the legs, sending them falling to the deck. Shots rang out as Jowarski burst from the main hatchway, a pistol in his hand firing wildly.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Jowarski screamed as he came to a stop, his eyes locked on the destruction happening on his ship. He spun about and aimed his pistol at Ballantine. “What have you done? How? How can you do these things when you are tied up? What kind of fucking freak are you?”

  “I’m the freak that knows how to plan for every contingency,” Ballantine replied calmly, his body shielding Kinsey’s and Ingrid’s as they lay on the deck. “But more importantly, I’m the freak that embraces chaos and has all the faith in the world that it will turn out my way.”

  “Then that makes you a dead freak,” Jowarski said, moving towards Ballantine. “Because this chaos is not going to turn out—”

  His chest exploded open and then half his head was gone as extremely loud shots rang out. More of Jowarski’s body was lost to the barrage of bullets that crashed into him until there wasn’t enough of him left to stay standing.

  Ballantine, Kinsey, and Ingrid looked up to see Lake standing at the railing outside the bridge, a smoking Desert Eagle in each hand.

  “I’m the captain of this fucking ship!” Lake yelled, his words slurred. “If anyone gets to kill Ballantine it’s me!”

  He belched loudly then turned and vomited over the railing.

  “That is the chaos I’m talking about,” Ballantine grinned. “Damn that man is good with those hand cannons. He doesn’t even need a double grip.”

  “Is he drunk?” Ingrid asked as Lake continued puking.

  “They didn’t think to check the bridge?” Kinsey asked.

  “I know, right?” Ballantine said, getting to his feet. “There is just no accounting for professionalism these days.”

  Lake puked some more then waved his pistols in the air. Right before his eyes rolled up in his head and he passed out.

  ***

  Team Grendel broke from the tree line then stopped as they saw what was before them. The way to the Zodiac was blocked by a hundred croanderthals, all brandishing various weapons and blowguns. The blowgunned few put their weapons to their lips and prepared to fire.

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Thorne said as he locked eyes with the woman he recognized as the Liu croanderthal. Despite their new discoveries below the Omega facility, Thorne knew she wasn’t a clone. He saw the differences in her instantly, his SEAL-trained eyes sizing her up on the spot. “This bitch again?”

  Darby grinned at his comment and put her plasma rifle to her shoulder. “We get Lucy and the others to the Zodiac.”

  “That’s the plan,” Thorne said.

  “What was that?” Darren asked. “No fucking way! No suicide pacts! This is not self-sacrifice day!”

  “Every day is self-sacrifice day when you work for Ballantine,” Darby said.

  “Take them down!” the Liu croanderthal shouted.

  Before a single poisoned dart was blown, three croanderthal heads burst open. A half second later, three gunshots echoed across the bay. The Liu croanderthal spun around and roared at the far-off ship.

  More shots rang out as croanderthal after croanderthal was dropped. A bullet whizzed past Thorne’s cheek and he could have sworn he heard his daughter’s far-off voice yell, “Sorry, Daddy!”

  The Liu croanderthal began shoving her people about, yelling at them to ignore the guns and go kill Thorne and his Team. She shook with rage and opened her mouth to roar again, but she was beaten to the punch by a considerably more forceful roar that tore through the trees behind Thorne and company.

  “Big and ugly is back!” Max yelled. “Go!”

  Darren and Shane lifted Lucy off the stretcher and each draped one of her arms over their shoulders. They drug her off to the side, getting as far away as possible from what was about to come out at them.

  Mike opened fire on the croanderthals with his plasma gun, running sideways and providing covering fire for Darren and Shane as they struggled to keep Lucy up on her feet.

  Max was right beside him, his shotgun barking at the mutant cannibals that came for them, clubs held high, razor sharp teeth showing.

  Thorne and Darby simply walked forward, taking careful, well-placed shots with their plasma rifles, ripping holes in the mob of croanderthals. The croanderthals responded in kind by rushing towards the two, rage overriding the fear of what was coming from the jungle.

  “Here we go,” Thorne said as his plasma rifle powered down. He whipped it about and grabbed the barrel like a bat just as Darby did the same thing.

  Croanderthal heads stopped exploding as Thorne and Darby got too close to the targets, but Thorne could tell the firing hadn’t stopped completely. Gunshots still echoed across the bay. Either the shooters had found targets far enough away not to hit Thorne and Darby with friendly fire or…

  The trees were torn from their roots as the massive, mutated, T-rex-looking bastard burst from the jungle and immediately scooped up four croanderthals in its mouth, crunching down hard and sending blood and guts spewing for several meters across the white sand beach.

  Thorne ignored the monster, knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He just concentrated on bashing in as many protruding foreheads as he could. Croanderthal after croanderthal dropped from his constant swinging of the dead plasma rifle. Almost as many dropped from Darby�
�s swinging as well, but she was taking more careful aim, making sure each swing was a certain kill shot. Thorne admired the dedication briefly then focused back on his mad attack.

  Down the beach, Max fired his shotgun into a dozen croanderthals running at him until the gun clicked empty. He tossed it aside and pulled a .45 from his hip, firing until that was empty. A dozen croanderthal corpses lay at his feet, but more were coming at him and his guns were empty.

  He picked up a crude club and held it over his head.

  “Come on, you Flintstone motherfuckers!” he shouted. “It’s time to go clubbing!”

  Even with all the distance and violence between them, Max would swear later he heard Darby groan.

  He brought the club down onto one skull then another before he was tackled at the waist and sent falling onto his back in the sand.

  “Dig in!” Mike shouted and Max covered his head with his arms and closed his eyes.

  He felt the heat of the plasma blasts rip around him and the skin on his arms burned and tingled. Then he was covered in croanderthal gore. But at least he wasn’t under a prehistoric dogpile anymore. He opened his eyes and gave Mike a thumbs up then wiped as much of the guts off him as he could before getting to his feet.

  “Thanks,” Max said.

  “Yeah, you won’t thank me if you get caveman Hep C,” Mike said, frowning at Max’s appearance. “You’re going to need a lot of showers.”

  Mike’s eyes went wide and he lifted the plasma rifle again. Max dropped to a knee as the man fired then looked over his shoulder as two croanderthals exploded into piles of offal.

  “These fuckers never give up, do they?” Max asked as he once again got to his feet.

  “No, they fucking don’t,” Mike said.

  A few yards away, Darren and Shane still struggled with Lucy.

  “Luce? Can you hear me?” Shane asked.

  “Yeah,” Lucy replied weakly. “But I’m really tired, Shane. Can I sleep for a bit?”

  “No,” Darren barked. “Keep your eyes open and stay with us. You sleep, you die.”