by Greig Beck
The jungle came alive as the attack began – the first creature sprang from the leafy tangle behind the man, coming at him so fast it was nearly a blur. The thing was around seven feet tall, brown and green tiger-striped for perfect camouflage, and had beaded red eyes like those of some sort of bird of prey.
From 10 feet out, it leapt, landing directly on Nino and pinning him down, huge claws on its toes sprung down and dug in. Nino’s scream of surprise and pain was like a signal to the rest, who came from two sides, smaller, but obviously part of the same pack.
“Theropods,” Jenny whispered. “Pack hunters.”
Ben couldn’t tear his eyes away. He’d seen soldiers, friends, burned, blasted and shot full of holes, but this made him feel physically ill.
The creatures wasted no time tearing at Nino’s flesh. Ben swallowed down some bile as he watched in horror. In only seconds, the Venezuelan’s arms held up for protection were ripped away, and his screams continued even as they pulled more and more flesh from him. He was then raked and disemboweled, and then finally the pack leader reached for the man’s face, and the sound of tooth on bone made Ben look away for a moment.
Even as he did, he could hear them eat, gulping their meat. He turned back. The three theropods continually lifted their heads, looking over their shoulders to scan the foliage. Their darting movements reminded Ben of some sort of horrifying birds from
Hell pecking at their meals. But there were no beaks, just cruel mouths that were just rows of needle-sharp teeth.
“Sons of bitches,” Koenig hissed through clamped teeth.
Ben eased his rifle off his shoulder, but the hunter shook his head, whispering, “Like a lion or wolf pack, there could be more that are just waiting their turn. We need to get the fuck out of here.”
With a wet, tearing crunch, one of Nino’s legs was torn from his torso. Emma made a gagging noise in her throat, and then couldn’t help herself: “Oh, Jesus…”
Jenny threw a hand over her mouth, but the words carried. The three creatures pulled their bloody box-like heads from the mess of torn clothing, splintered bones, and rags of meat that was once Nino, and faced in the group’s direction.
Ben knew they were hidden behind a stand of fern fronds, but it wasn’t the thing’s eyesight that would pick them out. As if on cue, the largest reared back and lifted its head, sniffing deeply.
“We’ll never outrun ‘em,” Koenig whispered. “No choice now.” This time, it was the hunter who drew his rifle.
Ben silently did the same, and used a hand to force the group back. When Ben turned back, he saw that two of the creatures were now easing towards them, and were now only 50 feet away. Their heads were pointed on long necks and their tails were out arrow straight behind them. Any second, he expected the charge to come.
One of the creatures, the smallest, remained behind, one clawed foot on the last of Nino’s remains, but it also watched intently. Ben was of two minds: should they stand and fight, or run for it?
The decision was taken from him, as the first creature, the largest, hissed like a steam kettle and prepared its run.
“Brace.” Ben was up on one knee, the assault rifle to his shoulder. Koenig was just behind him, his own rifle pointed and rock steady.
“Don’t aim for the head,” Jenny whispered. “Too hard.”
The hissing of the three creatures was loud in the clearing now, and the pack leader’s clawed feet began to pound towards them. But as it did so, from behind them something else burst from the brush, obviously attracted by the noise and smell of a fresh kill.
“Oh-hhh fuck,” Steve quaked.
The thing stood about 15 feet tall on two titanic legs, small arms that had three hooked claw-like fingers on the ends of human-sized arms. Its pebbled flesh was brick-red.
Trees were shattered from its path, and it roared so loud the theropod that had been on top of Nino froze, just for a split second, but enough for the massive creature to leap and land.
Ben felt the ground shake beneath them as the thing came down on the smaller biped theropod, pinning it to the ground. The other members of the pack, outweighed, out-muscled, and out-toothed, fled in terror.
The massive beast roared again, and Ben felt the power of the sound as he too froze in fear. The huge, boxy head lowered then, and the mouth opened displaying rows of eight-inch, backward-curving teeth. The small theropod screamed and even from where Ben watched, he could feel the primal fear of the animal, as it knew it was about to be eaten alive.
In a single crunch and tear, the sound of fear was ripped away as a third of the smaller theropod was torn from the rest of the body.
“Go, go, go.” Koenig dragged Ben backwards, and he and the group began to barrel through the jungle.
They ran hard, ducking and dodging tree trunks and fern fronds, and it was only after a few minutes that he realised that the group wasn’t slowing, didn’t know where it was going, and was basically just blundering through the jungle in a blind panic.
Ben hated to do it, but he had no choice – he yelled: “Stop!”
Emma turned briefly, and then slowed and stopped. Just in front of her, Koenig did the same, and then he saw Jenny come back, red-faced and eyes round. Her head constantly turned, looking from one side of the jungle to the other.
Ben sucked in huge lungfuls of air. “Where the hell is everyone else?”
Jenny shook her head. “In front, running fast. I lost sight of them.”
Ben cupped his mouth with his hands, but Jenny put a hand up to his face.
“Don’t.” She pulled his hands down. “Please, Ben, don’t. Theropods track primarily by sound and scent. I think that big one was an Allosaurus – there could be even bigger predators about.” She sucked in a few breaths, looking like she was about to throw up. “Plus, the smaller ones are still out there somewhere. We just need to, just need to…” She gulped air again. “We just need to find shelter, and then work on finding a way down.”
“We need to find them; it’s Steve, Dan, and Andrea,” Emma said. “That’s our priority.”
“Yes, but we’re vulnerable now. Night time might actually be better for us,” Jenny pleaded.
“I can track them better during the day,” Koenig said. “Gotta find the boss, or no pay. And he’s damn gonna be up for plenty from this dumb ass mission.”
“Can’t lose touch with them,” Ben said, feeling his nerves stretch with impatience.
Jenny hung onto him again. “Look, it’s all educated guessing when dealing with these massive creatures that have been extinct for over 65 million years, but we know that these things had great senses of smell and hearing. But many predatory bipeds also have something called optokinetic reflexes. Basically, it means that they are tuned in to have reflexive responses to moving visual stimuli – the eyes automatically track contrast-based movement. But it works best in the light – like now.” Her features were screwed with anxiety. “Wait until it’s dark.”
Ben exhaled through pressed lips. “Fuck it.” He looked out into the jungle. It had already swallowed the others – Steve, Andrea, Dan, Barlow, and Bellakov, all out there somewhere. Barlow and Bellakov he couldn’t give a crap about, but his friends being lost worried the hell out of him.
Ben checked his watch – midday – they had time. “I don’t care; we find them.”
CHAPTER 24
Barlow wheezed like an old kettle and reached out to hang onto Janus Bellakov’s arm. “We need, we need, to…rest,” he panted.
Bellakov didn’t look at him, but instead kept scanning the jungle. He gripped his rifle hard with muzzle up.
“We need to go back,” Andrea cried. Her face was beet-red and tear-streaked.
“She’s right,” Steve said. “We’ve become separated and need to find Ben and the team.”
“I don’t think so,” Bellakov said without turning.
“What? Are you mad?” Dan’s brow was deeply creased. “Safety in numbers, man. Did you not see what just happened back there?”
Bellakov kept his eyes on the green walls all around them. He’d seen the smaller creatures sprint away, startled by the enormous fucking thing that had burst from the jungle. Those theropods, as the zoo girl called them, were mean suckers. They were like seven-foot-tall tigers with daggers on their feet. Going back might mean finding Ben Cartwright and his people, or it might mean walking straight into a pack of those pissed-off monsters.
Bellakov had seen how fast they moved, like a wolf pack but bigger, meaner, smarter, and a hundred times more deadly. And all he had was amateurs with a single shotgun, and the rest with handguns they probably didn’t even know how to use.
He turned, fixing them with a stare. “Ain’t happening.”
“Hey, you’re not listening.” Dan reached out to grab his shoulder, but Bellakov spun, lifting his rifle to jam the butt into the tech millionaire’s chest. Dan went down.
“It’s you that’s not listening.” Bellakov righted the gun and held the muzzle pointed downwards but in Dan’s direction. “They said they’d head towards the source of the river.” He pointed. “That way. We can go back, and risk missing them, or perhaps coming face to face with those monsters.”
Steve helped Dan to his feet, and Bellakov looked at each of their faces – fear, fatigue, and confusion – good, he thought. “Or we can head in the direction we know they’ll go, and more than likely intersect trails.”
“But they might need our help,” Andrea implored.
Bellakov chuckled. “They’ve got Cartwright and Koenig – both seasoned warriors. You’ve just got me. They’ll be fine.” He turned to Barlow. “How you doin’, boss?”
Barlow took off his hat and used one beefy arm to wipe his streaming brow before jamming it back on his head.
“Your logic is impeccable, Mr. Bellakov. Lead on.”
“Nah ah.” Bellakov pointed at Steve. “You; your turn to be out on point.”
Steve just grunted. “Fine; ready when you are.” He leaned towards Andrea. “You okay?”
She gave him a watery smile. “No.”
He half smiled in return. “Me neither.” He turned in the direction of where they believed the river was running from – inland.
*****
“We pick it up from where we know it exists – the plateau edge,” Ben said.
“Works for me,” Koenig agreed. “Then we can track it back – but finding it is the key.”
“What then?” Jenny asked.
“In Benjamin’s notes, he said there were caves at the inland lake. Maybe one is deep enough to take us back to the ground.” He shrugged. “It’s all I got for now.”
Koenig checked his weapon. “We go silent, low, and as fast as we can. We do not want to be out here in the dark.” He looked up and grinned at Ben. “It’s your plan, big guy, so…”
Ben nodded and then led them out, followed by Emma and Jenny, with Koenig at the rear. Ben burrowed, squeezed, and eased his way through, trying to avoid having to hack his way forward using his long hunting knife. Their progress wasn’t as fast as he wanted, but it was the quietest way they could manage.
Once, they all froze as they heard the sound of a massive body crashing through the undergrowth, followed by the screams of fear then pain, and gave their thanks it wasn’t an agonized human voice.
They waited in silence as it devolved into the sounds of wet tearing before Ben waved them on again. They detoured in a wide arc around the kill zone, as the one thing they’d all learned was that the sounds and smells of death brought out more of the hunters.
Every foot they travelled stretched their nerves. In just a matter of hours, two of their party had been attacked and died gruesomely, and now they had been split up. So every shadow made someone jump, and every rustle in the underbrush caused a near panic.
Ben had fought in jungles before, but it had been against human adversaries, not something that wanted to eat you alive.
It took them another full draining hour in the humid mist-filled jungle before they came to the clearing at the edge of the plateau. Ben simply stopped and stared.
“Ho-leeeey shit,” Emma said.
Walt Koenig chortled and cradled his gun. The jungle floor was well over a thousand feet below them, and the canopy cover was an unbroken field of green for as far as they could see.
Above them, the clouds hung heavily, and strangely, they were darker and thicker over the plateau above them. They even swirled slightly like they were in the eye of a cyclone.
But it wasn’t the weather or the jungle that drew their attention, but instead the downed airplane.
“Old,” Jenny said. “Looks like a Spitfire or something.”
“I’m thinking World War II at least,” Koenig added.
“Corsair Fighter,” Ben said. “And yeah, you’re right, World War II. They called them the bent-wing widow-makers – they were tough to land on carriers.”
Ben began to walk towards it. “This poor sap probably got blown off course. They were doing a lot of work in the Pacific and I bet the carrier launched from Guadalcanal.”
“A long way from home,” Koenig said.
“Yep.” Ben took a brief look over his shoulder to the jungle, and then put his rifle over his shoulder. The cockpit window was still sealed and covered over with vines. He laid a hand on the fuselage. “These bad boys had a Pratt & Whitney engine; that gave ‘em 2,000 horsepower, and gassed up, had a range of 1,000 miles.” He stepped up on the wing and rubbed at the cockpit canopy window, cupping his hands around his eyes to peer in.
He snorted softly, gripped the glass, and dragged it gradually back with a painful squeal of corrosion. The skeleton had its head leant forward and he immediately saw that the front of the skull was caved in.
Ben leaned his forearms on the edge of the cockpit. “Crash landing, died on impact. Probably for the best.” He reached in to grab the dog tags still hanging around the bony neck.
“Lieutenant John Carter.” He gripped them and tugged them free. “Rest in peace, buddy.” He tucked the tags into his pocket.
Emma climbed up on the other wing and peered in. “Still in pretty good shape for a 70-year-old plane.”
“Yeah, all we need is a tank of gas, a workshop, and a few hundred hours of a mechanic’s time, and we’re outta here.” He smiled. ‘We probably should have been here when he came down.”
Ben leaned in again, looking at the skeleton. “If we were, maybe we could have…who knows.” He patted the skeleton’s shoulder. “Thank you for your service, airman.” He was about to pull back but paused, looking from the cockpit, the wings, and then to the plateau edge – pretty good shape for a 70-year-old plane, she’d said.
An insane thought began to form, but then was quickly scrubbed away by logic. Nah, he straightened. Not even I’m that mad, he thought, and jumped down from the wing.
He took one last look back. Yet.
CHAPTER 25
Bellakov held up a hand and the group bunched up behind him. He held a finger to his lips, and then just let his senses reach out to the jungle.
The seconds stretched, each one seeming longer than the last. The group peered from him to the jungle and back again, and their eyes were large and round, like those of frightened sheep.
They’re scared, and they need to be, he thought. The fact was, they were being tracked. On both sides of them, some things were keeping pace with them. Their footfalls were light, but he knew they were there.
Bellakov recognized the hunter’s tread, as he was also a hunter. Plenty of times people had tried to kill him, and he knew what it was like to be shadowed by something or someone who wanted to kill, and he knew it now. Barlow eased in closer to him, the fat fool quivering like pink pudding.
“What is it?” he stammered.
“Predators,” Bellakov whispered, and then pointed to Dan and Steve, then his eyes, and then back out into the jungle. He needed their eyes and ears, as well as their firepower.
Though there was no breeze to be up
or downwind of, Bellakov knew that with their body odor, perfumes, and deodorants, they’d be leaving a scent trail dozens of feet wide to be picked up by every scent-tracking predator that passed across it.
And that wasn’t all – he gritted his teeth as he looked down at the girl’s leg; the bandage was red and damp – there was nothing like the coppery sweet smell of fresh blood to ring the dinner bell to call in the hungry diners.
“Stand and fight?” Steve asked.
Bellakov had considered it. He liked the kid’s guts, but the fact was they had no idea how many of them there were. Added to that, he saw what happened when you made too much noise – it starts with the little fast ones, and ends with King fucking Kong lizard crashing the party.
He lifted his gun. “Not sure if we could bring one of those big mothers down. Might just piss it off. We’re gonna have to make a run for it.”
His head snapped around – more sound, moving now to get in front of them and cut them off. Time was up. “Lock and load; everyone.”
Steve had the shotgun, but everyone else just handguns. Andrea lifted hers from her holster, the weapon looking big and awkward in her hand. And worse, it shook from nerves.
“Ready?” He looked at each of them; they were wide-eyed and on the verge of panic. Couldn’t be helped.
“Then go!” He charged out in front, rifle held up in two hands, using it as a battering ram and also ready to fire.
The sudden motion excited the creatures to attack, and they came out of the jungle, fast and low; this time, the things were no more than waist height, and a muddy, mottled brown. They ran on two legs and hissed, showing rows of teeth like a serrated knife. Little arms ended in clawed hands that were now splayed wide.
Dan fired first, missing. Steve fired off a round and blew the head completely off one of them. Good lad, Bellakov thought.
Behind them all was Barlow, gasping like a stranded fish. Bellakov turned, sighted, and took down one of the things that made a run at him. He waited, and Dan and Steve shot past him, Andrea came next and as she went to sprint past, he put a foot out, tripping her.