by C. G. Mosley
The Monsters In The Mist
C.G. Mosley
www.severedpress.com
Copyright 2017 by C.G. Mosley
Prologue
July 15, 1992, 3:19 p.m.
Acapulco, Mexico
Eric Gill took a sip of iced cola and then took a moment to loosen the collar of his dress shirt. It was a sweltering day, but the occasional strong gust of wind that came off the Pacific made the wait bearable. The man he was waiting for was a potential customer, and after speaking with him on the phone, Eric had a good feeling that his uncomfortable wait would be rewarded substantially.
After all, the view from the La Perla restaurant was not something he wanted to end abruptly. The restaurant was nestled high in the cliffs of La Quebrada, home of the famous cliff divers of Acapulco. Eric watched in awe as the men and boys of all various ages climbed the rock face, each taking a moment to pray to the Virgin of Guadalupe shrine before plunging head first into the blue waters 147 feet below. The dives had to be timed precisely with the wind and incoming waves so that the divers would have the adequate amount of depth needed to clear the rocky bottom.
The show was nearing its conclusion when Eric caught sight of an Arabian man in his mid-thirties approaching his table. The man wore a black business suit, and a turban to match. His beard was long and dark, although there was plenty of gray beginning to take over. The man was trailed by two other Arabian men, both of whom were dressed very similarly.
“Welcome,” Eric said, rising from the table. “I’m afraid you’ve missed the show, but I hear they’re going to be diving again in a few hours. This time it’ll be dark, and they’ll carry torches.”
The Arabian man held up an apologetic hand and took a seat. “I’m sorry that I’ve kept you waiting, Mr. Gill. We were delayed by traffic,” he said, then glanced toward the cliffs below. “I may return tonight to see these cliff divers; will you be here?”
Eric sat back down. “No, I’m afraid not. My flight leaves in a couple of hours and I have to get back to work,” he said, then added, “hopefully when I return, it’ll be you I’ll be working for.”
The Arabian man smiled slightly, but seemed to be going out of his way to keep the tone all business.
“All right,” Eric said. “Let’s get down to business. Firstly, I’d like to know how you found out about me and what I do.”
The Arabian man grabbed the pitcher of water sitting in the center of the table and poured himself a glass. He drank it before speaking.
“Let’s just say that we have mutual friends,” he said finally. “I, like you, conduct a lot of my business in secret. I think that it would be best for both of us if we knew as little about each other as possible.”
Eric crossed his arms and shifted in his chair. Something about this man made him terribly uncomfortable, but he dared not show it.
“Fair enough,” he replied. “Well, how can I be of service to you?”
The man leaned forward to the point that his beard touched the table. “I’m interested in purchasing a tyrannosaur,” he whispered.
Eric was in the middle of taking another swallow of cola when the man spoke, and the mere mention of the word ‘tyrannosaur’ made him choke. A tyrannosaur? Was he crazy?
After a brief moment of coughing and hacking, Eric finally regained his voice so that he could respond.
“Only one man has ever made a request like that,” he replied. “And after I showed the man a picture of one, he changed his mind. A tyrannosaur would be extremely hard to contain.”
The Arabian man was unnerved. “Can you fulfill the request, or not?”
“Yes, of course, I could do it,” he replied. “It’s you I’m worried about. I’m not sure you completely understand what you’re asking for. A tyrannosaur, although admittedly not the nastiest animal we’ve got, is still one of the most terrifying. It would take a large area and a great deal of electric fencing to contain an animal that large. Just keeping it fed would take a lot of money. If carnivores are your thing, there are plenty of others to choose from that aren’t nearly as large and easier to care for.”
“How much for a juvenile tyrannosaur?” the man asked, seemingly ignoring his advice.
“An adult would cost you five,” Eric replied.
“I’m not interested in an adult; I want a juvenile.”
“Why a juvenile?” Eric asked. “Because if you think you can train the thing, you may as well forget it. Their brains are very small.”
“How much for a juvenile?” the man repeated flatly.
“Two mil,” Eric replied.
Without batting an eye, the Arabian man agreed. He extended his hand and Eric promptly shook it.
“Very well,” Eric said, rising from the table. “Give me a week and I’ll have the animal for you. Of course, you remember that I require ten percent up front.”
“Of course,” the Arabian man replied. He motioned toward one of his associates and a brown leather briefcase was suddenly placed on the table. Eric reached for it, but the man pulled it away.
“I’m not finished,” he said. His steely eyes suddenly turned unfriendly.
Eric returned to his seat, and he wasn’t sure if he should be happy about it or not.
“Are you saying you want to make another purchase?” he asked.
The Arabian man nodded slowly and then retrieved a piece of paper from his coat pocket.
“Do you have any of these on your island?” he asked, sliding the folded paper forward.
Eric reluctantly took the piece of paper and then carefully unfolded it. The species of dinosaur scrawled in black ink was not one that he expected to see. He suddenly broke out into a cold sweat.
“How do you know about this animal?” he asked.
“Do you have one?” the Arabian man asked again.
Eric closed his eyes and slumped down in his chair. He considered telling the man no. If he did, the man certainly wouldn’t know any different. On the other hand, an animal such as this would bring in huge money. But why on earth would this man want an animal as nightmarish as this?
Eric couldn’t think of any good reason for a man to ask for this particular species, but the real truth was that he didn’t really care. If the man wanted to kill himself by stupidly purchasing an animal like this one, who was he to stop him?
“Considering their size and diet, I would estimate we have no more than five adult ones,” Eric said finally. “We’ve only seen one, but evidence has been found to suggest that there are others.”
“One will be just fine,” the Arabian man replied. “How much will it cost?”
Eric breathed deeply through his nose and considered a price. He stared into the steely eyes of his client as he thought.
“Fifteen million,” he said finally, never breaking eye contact.
“We have a deal,” the man responded. “You’ll find more than enough to cover the deposit for both animals in the briefcase,” he said, rising from the table.
“I’ll need at least one additional week to get the second animal,” Eric said.
“Take three weeks if you need it; just make sure that the animals are delivered by the final week in June.”
Eric reached out to shake the man’s hand once more. He took it and rather forcefully tugged Eric toward him.
“Do not disappoint me, Mr. Gill,” he whispered softly.
Eric jerked his hand back. “You won’t be,” he replied. “You just make sure you have the rest of my money and you’ll get your dinosaurs.”
With that, the Arabian man turned away and began to leave the restaurant.
“Why won’t yo
u tell me your name?” Eric called after him.
The man stopped abruptly and looked back at him over his left shoulder. “I told you my name,” he replied.
Eric shook his head. “Somehow I don’t think ‘Mr. O’ is your real name,” he replied, somewhat irritated.
The Arabian man did not respond; he just turned away and left the restaurant, his associates following closely behind.
Chapter 1
Jackson, Mississippi
Jonathon Williams held his wife’s hand and tried his best to put on a brave face. He and Lucy had been married for seven years now, and almost all of that time had been nothing short of wonderful. In fact, the only times that the two of them seemed unhappy was after Lucy regretfully informed her husband that another pregnancy test had come back negative. All of that finally changed four months ago.
When Lucy came running into the living room, the plastic test in her hand, he knew that the moment they’d dreamed about had finally arrived. As soon as he saw the two pink lines that indicated a positive test, Jonathon felt a mixture of pride and fear wash over him all at once. He knew Lucy was probably having the same emotions, although she’d never admit it.
After nine weeks went by, and he’d just started getting used to the idea of being a father, they went in for an ultrasound. The surreal sight of a tiny beating heart on the monitor brought both mother and father to tears. It was at that moment that it all began to fully sink in. They were going to be parents and their lives would never be the same again. Suddenly, it began to make total sense to Jonathon when he thought back to their ordeal on a tiny island in the center of the Bermuda Triangle seven years ago. There were many nights that he woke up in a cold sweat from the nightmares he experienced concerning hungry tyrannosaurs and terrifying pterosaurs. Worse yet, was the recurring dreams he had of the Troodons that inhabited the cave in which the fountain of youth was located. He would never be able to shake the mental image imprinted in his brain of Osvaldo being eaten alive by those vicious animals so that the rest of the survivors could escape. It was the eyes of the Troodons that troubled him the most. Those animals were far more intelligent than he or any other paleontologist had ever fully realized.
Despite all of those horrifying experiences, somehow he and Lucy escaped it all when there were others that did not. Now that there was a tiny person growing inside of Lucy, Jonathon truly felt that he knew the reason why. They were meant to be parents, and he dreamt of all of the things their child would accomplish. Those first four months of pregnancy were truly the greatest in their marriage, and it seemed as if their lives couldn’t get any more perfect. And then—suddenly the door to the office they were sitting in swung open abruptly.
A man in a white lab coat stepped in, a stethoscope draped around his neck. Dr. George Hughes was balding, mid-fifties, with blue eyes and a face that seemed too boyish to belong to a doctor as experienced as he. He had a folder under his arm, and he took a moment to glance at it before taking a seat at his large, mahogany desk.
“Good morning,” Dr. Hughes stated, almost shyly. “I’m sorry for keeping the two of you waiting.”
“Good morning, and it’s quite alright,” Jonathon replied. Just give me good news, he thought to himself.
Lucy forced a smile, but there was no masking the true emotion of fear that was clearly at the forefront of her mind. She took a deep breath and then nervously repositioned herself in the cushy leather chair, the air softly hissing out of it as she did so. She squeezed Jonathon’s hand tightly, preparing herself for the worst.
“I’ll cut to the chase,” Dr. Hughes said, his tone still reserved. Jonathon saw it as a bad sign.
“The lab results are back, and I’m sorry to say that cancer cells were found. Mrs. Williams, you’re dealing with Grade 3 breast cancer.”
Jonathon glanced over at his terrified wife; she opened her mouth to speak, but quickly closed it, unable to mutter a word. A single tear rolled down her cheek, and it was all Jonathon could do to keep it together himself. Someone had to ask the tough questions. Right now, it had to be him. He gave Lucy’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
“What are the treatment options?” he asked, it was all he could get out at the moment.
***
Five Hours Later…
“No, I’m not doing it, and there isn’t a single thing you can say to change my mind. I’m a mother now, and it’s my job to do everything I can to protect this baby,” she said, pointing to her large belly. Her face was red…her eyes redder. She’d been pleading her case to Jonathon ever since they’d left Dr. Hughes office, and the argument (if you could call it that) had completely drained her.
“Sweetheart, I—I can’t lose you,” Jonathon stammered, his eyes welling up. “We’ve been through so much together and we’ll get through this. Refusing the treatment is absolutely the wrong answer.”
“So you’re okay with poisoning the baby? Is that what you’re saying?” she asked.
“Oh for God’s sake, Lucy…we wouldn’t be poisoning the baby!”
“There are risks every time I expose this baby to radiation,” she said. “I’m not taking the risks, no matter how minimal the exposure is.”
Jonathon wanted to open his mouth and argue his side further. However, he thought better of it and stormed out of the house through the back door. He walked around the pool and plopped down on an outdoor chair near the edge of the modest, rectangular swimming pool. Once seated, he placed his face in the palms of his hands and let the tears flow. He was mad, he was hurt, and worst of all, he was terrified.
Why can’t she see this my way? he thought. His head told him that this was her hormones taking over and that they were overpowering her judgment. However, his heart told him that her mind was made up on the matter. She wasn’t going to take the radiation as Dr. Hughes recommended. He’d all but told her she had no chance of survival if the treatments did not start immediately. The cancer was aggressive, and she did not have another four months to spare. Were there risks for the baby? Of course, but Dr. Hughes made it clear that the radiation exposure would be minimal in the beginning and they would gradually increase it as the baby grew stronger. None of that mattered to Lucy. It seemed she’d focused on nothing but the risks for the baby.
Jonathon felt a warm body brush against his leg, and then a familiar cold, wet nose followed. It was Rex, his faithful golden retriever, and the dog could clearly sense his master needed him. Jonathon took the dog’s large head in his hands and gently caressed his ears.
“I’ll be alright, boy,” he said.
Rex stared at him, his tail wagging slightly. It was obvious he didn’t believe his master.
Jonathon continued to caress the dog’s ears, and for the first time, he could see that the dog was showing its age. He’d gotten Rex when the dog was only a pup in December of 1982.
“You’re pushing ten years old now,” he said. “You’re practically an old man.”
The statement suddenly had him reliving the memories of the mysterious island and its dinosaur inhabitants. After all, it was Angus’s dreams of conquering his own mortality that brought them there to begin with. The old man was tired of aging…he wanted to do something about it. He searched and searched until he found a way.
And then, an idea popped into Jonathon’s head.
Chapter 2
Jackson-Evers Municipal Airport
“Oh come on, Henry,” Julianne barked at her husband. “You survived the flight…congratulations! Now be a big boy and catch up.”
Henry Williams rolled his eyes at his wife, but made no effort to increase his pace. Julianne always talked to him like he was a child; she’d done it all forty-four years he’d known her. As he thought about that, he tried very hard to think of a time when he’d raised his voice to the woman. He thought and thought, ultimately coming up with nothing.
“Do you see the boy?” he asked.
“Your eyesight is better than mine,” she replied, squinting. “You tell me.”<
br />
Henry stopped walking, took off his glasses, and rubbed them clean on his dress shirt. He then peered through the spectacles, scanning the crowd around them for any sign of his son. A couple of attempts later, he spotted him strolling their direction.
“Mom…Dad! It’s good to see the both of you,” Jonathon said, grabbing both of his parents at once.
“Easy, boy,” Henry said. “Your mother and I are getting brittle.”
“Speak for yourself,” Julianne snapped, glaring at her husband. “There is nothing brittle about me because I stay active…I don’t sit on the couch watching Gunsmoke reruns several hours a day.”
Henry rolled his eyes again and did his best to ignore his wife’s jest.
“Go easy on him, Mom,” Jonathon said. “You know how much he hates flying. I’m sure he’s a nervous wreck right now and you patronizing him isn’t helping.
“Patronizing him? Oh, please,” his mother responded. “I’ve had to baby this man his whole life.”
“Show us to the car, will you, boy?” Henry said with a deep sigh. “These bags aren’t getting any lighter.”
Jonathon quickly grabbed one of the bags from his father.
“Sorry, Dad, sure…follow me,” he said, trotting away.
Jonathon loaded the bags into the trunk and turned to get in the car. Before he could make his way to the driver’s side door, Julianne grabbed his arm.
“Son, I’m terribly sorry,” she said.
“Sorry?” he asked. “For what?”
“The last thing your father and I should be doing is quarreling,” she said. “The entire reason we came down here is because of the terrible situation you and Lucy are experiencing. The last thing I want to do is add to your troubles.”
“Are you kidding me?” Jonathon said. “I want you guys to be yourselves. I told you that the both of you didn’t have to come.”
“But, I insisted,” Julianne said.
“That’s right, and I’m glad to have you both stay with us…but please don’t think you have to walk on egg shells while you’re here. Lucy and I are dealing with things in our own way, and although my way and her way are far different, we’re each doing what we have to do to get through it.”