Monsters In The Mist (The Island In The Mist Book 2)

by C. G. Mosley

  With no other options and little time to ponder them if he did, Jonathon quickly made his way toward the head of the animal so he could dive into the water and shimmy along the line until he made it to the barge. As he crawled over the Sarcosuchus’s large skull, he was suddenly overcome with an uneasy feeling. He prayed the animal wouldn’t suddenly awaken and gobble him up whole.

  Fortunately, his worst fears didn’t happen. Jonathon dove into the water and began pulling himself along the cable ahead of the giant croc. He could see Hardcastle still standing over the winch and smiling like a madman as he realized what Jonathon was about to attempt. The man was younger than him, more athletic, and undoubtedly crazier than him to boot. Hardcastle had taken his shirt off but was still wearing cargo pants and his hat—he was quite an intimidating sight. As he considered the challenge before him, Jonathon silently cursed himself for not picking up the other handgun that was lying on the beach.

  When he reached the barge, he was very much aware of the fact that the water was way over his head. If he didn’t get onto the barge quickly, Hardcastle would probably pummel him into submission and then there would be a real danger of drowning. To his utter surprise, instead of immediately attacking him, Hardcastle all but pulled him up onto the barge.

  “Came here to assist me?” he asked, still smirking.

  Jonathon shook his head and clenched his jaw. “I came here to stop you,” he replied sternly.

  Hardcastle stood up straight and cracked his knuckles. “Are you sure? I really hoped you were coming to assist me.” The winch was still reeling in the croc and it whined stubbornly in protest.

  Jonathon smiled and took a deep breath, fully aware of what was next. “Yep, I’m sure. Stop this madness before someone gets killed!”

  Hardcastle shook his head. “You know, somehow I kinda thought you were gonna say something like that.”

  At that moment, Hardcastle took a wild swing at Jonathon’s head, but he managed to duck in time. Jonathon threw a counter shot at Hardcastle’s ribcage and connected with a tremendous punch that stunned the younger man and sent his hat flying off his head. Hardcastle grabbed his side and yelped in pain, but instead of slowing him down, it only seemed to make matters worse. He quickly spun around so that he was behind Jonathon. Hardcastle then wrapped both arms around his waist and threw him around wildly through the air like a rag doll.

  Jonathon estimated that he’d traveled roughly six feet through the air when he finally fell hard onto the metal surface with a loud bone-rattling thud. He winced at the pain caused by the impact but was cognizant of the fact that he had no time to lick his wounds. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hardcastle charging at him, and he managed to roll out of the way just as a heavy boot came stomping down right where Jonathon’s head had just been.

  As he rolled over he managed to get onto his feet and throw a quick right hook that connected with Hardcastle’s jaw. The younger man rubbed at his lip and then angrily spat out blood. He then smiled at Jonathon, his teeth smeared red.

  “Ah, now you’ve really done it,” he said with a sinister look in his eye. “Now I’m really pissed!”

  Hardcastle then lunged at him, and as he did so, he punched Jonathon hard in the mouth. The blow to his face dropped him immediately to his knees, and for a moment, he felt as if Hardcastle was going to finish him off. However, it suddenly became apparent to him that the Sarcosuchus has regained the other man’s attention. The large animal was now sliding onto the ramp at the end of the barge. Upon realizing this, Glenn Hardcastle ran back to the winch controls.

  There was a throbbing sensation in his mouth, and Jonathon could feel a couple of his teeth wiggling around when he mashed his tongue against them. Every ounce of his being was telling him to count his losses and head back for the beach, but the sight of the terrifying dinosaur that was being hauled onto the barge would not allow him to do it. He began his approach toward Hardcastle yet again.

  “Who is Eric selling the croc to?” he asked as he continued walking.

  Hardcastle turned to look at him, keeping one hand on the winch controls and using his free hand to wipe blood away from his mouth.

  “I don’t know his name, nor do I know his game,” he said staring him down. “Eric refers to him as Mr. O.”

  Jonathon shook his head and laughed. “Come on now,” he said. “You can’t really be this stupid. The man is a terrorist and he plans to use this animal as a weapon.”

  Hardcastle took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes. He was not in the mood for insults, and he certainly didn’t believe a word of what Jonathon was saying.

  Jonathon could see his anger building and held up his hands in an apologetic fashion. “Don’t take what I’m saying the wrong way—it’s just…well, look at this thing,” he explained, gesturing toward the Sarcosuchus. It was now fully on the barge. “Are you really comfortable selling an animal as dangerous as this one to someone that you know absolutely nothing about?”

  Hardcastle released the winch control and marched straight toward Jonathon. He stopped directly in front of him and drew his face close to Jonathon’s, almost to the point their noses were touching.

  “I’m not the one selling this thing,” he grumbled. “Eric is. And just how do you know what he’s going to use it for?”

  “First of all, you’re helping Eric,” Jonathon countered. “And if this thing gets a hold of someone back in the civilized world, you’ve got just as much blood on your hands as he does. How I know what he’s going to do with it doesn’t matter, just know that it isn’t speculation—I genuinely know what he’s planning with this animal, and it’s pretty terrifying.”

  Hardcastle pulled back and crossed his arms. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said completely unconcerned. “Now you can either leave or help me. If you refuse to do either, I’m going to be forced to kill you.”

  “Eric’s dead,” Jonathon blurted out, hoping it would make him reconsider.

  Hardcastle’s mouth dropped open slightly, and he looked past Jonathon back toward the beach. “What? You killed him?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

  Jonathon shook his head. “No, Annie did,” he explained. “She showed up just as he was about to shoot me in the head.”

  Hardcastle’s face hardened, and he remained silent for a long moment. Finally, he began to laugh.

  Jonathon wasn’t sure what to make of the laughter. “So now you’re not working for him anymore—you need to stop this,” he added, almost pleading.

  When Hardcastle finally stopped laughing, he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say a single word, the sound of an approaching vessel caught his attention. He looked toward the mist, scooped his hat off the metal platform, and whispered, “He’s here.”

  Chapter 34

  The ship that approached was not at all like what Jonathon expected. In his mind’s eye, he pictured Eric Gill’s wealthy client to show up in some sort of sleek, modern ship with a fresh coat of paint that would shine brilliantly even in the mist-darkened skies of the island. Instead, what emerged near the edge of the veil was a rusty old vessel that barely appeared to be seaworthy.

  “This is your rich client?” Jonathon asked.

  “It would seem so,” Hardcastle replied replacing his hat, and there was a hint of worry in his tone.

  As the ship drew nearer, Jonathon could see two men of Middle-Eastern descent on the deck, and they appeared to be carrying automatic weapons.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he muttered softly.

  Hardcastle ignored him and raised his hand to wave. The men on deck did not wave back; they just peered at him with icy stares. A moment later, another man that was taller than the other two stepped out from the cabin. He was dressed in a black business suit and there was a turban upon his head that shared the same color. His face was dark and etched with wrinkles; the bottom half covered completely with a long salt-and-pepper beard that dropped low enough to hide his neck.

 
“Mr. O, I presume?” Hardcastle called out.

  The man’s demeanor appeared to be softer than the other two, and he allowed the slightest hint of a smile.

  “My, what an impressive animal,” Mr. O said, gazing past Jonathon and Hardcastle to the prehistoric crocodile. His English was good, but accented thick with Arabic. He stared at the Sarcosuchus for a solid minute before speaking again. “What about the other animal?” he asked. “Do you have it?”

  Hardcastle sighed deeply and made an annoying clicking sound with his mouth. “Well…no, I’m afraid not,” he said.

  Suddenly, Mr. O’s eyes widened, and his once relatively friendly features began to turn dark.

  Hardcastle noticed and spoke quickly. “Look, we had one—but it escaped just this morning,” he explained. “I can get you another one!”

  Mr. O stared at him but did not speak. Instead, he leaned over and said something to one of the men standing beside him. There was a brief exchange in Arabic when finally Mr. O returned his attention to Hardcastle.

  “Where is Eric Gill?” he asked calmly. “I need to speak with him about this.”

  Hardcastle frowned, and Jonathon wasn’t sure if it was because he was going to have to tell Mr. O what happened to Eric, or if it was because he took the question as a slight to him and his position in the company.

  He pondered the request for a few seconds, then cocked his head and said, “Mr. O, I’m afraid Mr. Gill isn’t available right now. He asked me to handle his affairs and—”

  Mr. O held up his hand in interruption—a dismissive gesture. “Sir, I have traveled a long way for these animals. If both of the animals are unavailable, I’m afraid that this deal is off.” Without saying another word, the man turned away and headed back to the cabin.

  “Wait,” Hardcastle called out, somewhat panicked. “Give me an opportunity to make good on the deal.”

  Mr. O stopped momentarily and half-turned back toward the railing of the ship.

  “No, the deal is off!” he repeated loudly. “We will take the animal as compensation for this waste of time.”

  Jonathon had been watching the awkward exchange between the two men with a lot of interest, but remained silent. The expression of anger that now began to creep across Hardcastle’s face began to worry him, and he wondered if he should speak up. It was very clear that he was not interested in giving the animal away as Mr. O had suggested.

  “Sir, I’m afraid that isn’t how we do business at Gill Enterprises,” he replied. “This animal isn’t going with you unless you are prepared to pay for it.” When he finished speaking, he crossed his arms and produced a big toothy grin. When Jonathon saw Mr. O’s reaction, he really wished he hadn’t done that.

  Mr. O suddenly charged toward the railing and grabbed the rusty metal with both hands. He jerked backwards on it furiously and began to scream something in Arabic.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” Jonathon whispered, finally unable to remain silent any longer.

  “Don’t worry,” Hardcastle replied very calmly. “I know what I’m doing.”

  Jonathon glared at him and then returned his attention to the screaming man on the ship.

  “Really?” he asked. “Because it looks to me like you’re about to get us killed.”

  Hardcastle shook his head. “He’s not gonna shoot us if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Jonathon looked on as Mr. O turned toward the other two men and because shouting at them. He didn’t understand Arabic, but the body language seemed to suggest he was ordering the men to kill them.

  “It sure looks like he’s about to have his men shoot us,” Jonathon said, and he contemplated jumping off the barge.

  “No, he’s not,” Hardcastle replied, still unshaken. “If he starts shooting at us, he will risk hitting the croc. He’s not going to risk that.”

  One of the men wielding an assault rifle stepped away momentarily and then returned with the end of a heavy cable.

  “Attach the cable to the barge if you want to live,” Mr. O called out to Hardcastle. “We will take the animal and leave. If you refuse, we will be forced to kill you and your friend. Then we will take the animal anyway.”

  Hardcastle stared at Mr. O for a long minute, and Jonathon could tell he was trying to come up with a way out of his current predicament that didn’t involve allowing the Sarcosuchus to be taken by force.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” Jonathon said. “Let him go; we’ll alert the authorities. He won’t get far.”

  Hardcastle took a deep breath—he sounded almost defeated. “Get off this barge,” he said, still staring upward at Mr. O.

  “Sure, but you’re coming with me,” Jonathon replied.

  Hardcastle shook his head. “No, I’m not,” he said calmly.

  Jonathon looked up toward Mr. O and the henchmen that flanked him. They had raised their weapons, and he was beginning to think that Hardcastle was completely wrong when he dismissed the notion that they would not fire on them for fear of hitting the Sarcosuchus.

  “What are you going to do?” Jonathon asked quickly, and he began to raise his hands in surrender—it was instinctual.

  “Is Eric really dead?” he asked softly.

  Jonathon looked back toward the beach and could just make out what appeared to be the lifeless body of Eric Gill slumped over motionless in the exact same spot that he’d left him.

  “I think he is,” he responded. “I’m sorry.”

  Hardcastle nodded slightly and said, “Well, if that’s true, there is no reason for me to stay here. I think I’m going to bargain with them. They’re my ticket out of here.”

  Mr. O seemed to be getting restless as he apparently noticed the soft conversation occurring between Hardcastle and Jonathon. He leaned over and whispered something into the ear of the man on his right. The man nodded and immediately pointed his gun toward the barge and opened fire.

  At least ten shots rang out and ricocheted loudly across the metal platform mere feet away from Hardcastle and Jonathon.

  “Whoa! Hold on!” Hardcastle shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “Okay, okay, the animal is yours.”

  Mr. O’s features immediately softened again. “I was beginning to think that you were a typical American fool,” he said with a laugh. “Attach the cable and I will let you live—but hurry before I reconsider.” He then crossed his arms and waited to see if his demands were met.

  Hardcastle nodded. “No problem,” he replied quickly. “But, sir, I must insist that you take me with you.” It was more of a demand than a request.

  Mr. O stroked his beard and narrowed his eyes. “And why exactly would I want to take you with me?” he asked, sounding a little intrigued.

  Hardcastle calmly walked from behind the winch controls and looked over his shoulder at the gigantic creature slumbering behind him.

  “You know nothing about this thing,” he said, gesturing toward the Sarcosuchus. “And in case Eric didn’t tell you—and I’m assuming he didn’t—this thing is not going to stay asleep until you get to wherever it is that you’re going.”

  Mr. O took a deep breath and moved his hand from his beard to the back of his neck. “Do you have more tranquilizers for us to give the animal?” he asked.

  Hardcastle reached down and retrieved a large black duffel bag that Jonathon had not noticed. The bag had been sitting behind the winch controls completely out of view. He held it up high so that Mr. O could get a good look at it.

  “This bag has enough tranquilizers to keep this animal out for a few days if need be,” he said. “But you really need someone that knows what they’re doing when it comes to administering the correct dosage. You need to not only know where to apply it, but you also need to know how much to give. Give too much, and you kill the animal. Give too little, and you or your men will end up dead.”

  There was a long silence as Mr. O seemed to mull over everything that Hardcastle had said.

  “Are you nuts?” Jonathon whispered. “We can�
�t let this animal leave this island!”

  “Yeah, you keep saying that,” Hardcastle whispered back with his back turned. “Look, I don’t really like you, but we’ve got one thing in common. We’re both American—if you think I’m going to let them use this dinosaur for terrorism, then I assure you, you are the one that is nuts.”

  Jonathon was surprised and bewildered all at the same time. He opened his mouth to reply, but Hardcastle began calling out to Mr. O again before he could.

  “And to sweeten the pot a little, how about this?” he offered with a big smile. “How about you take me out of here…let me work for you…and I’ll help you get as many of these animals that you want,” he said very matter-of-factly.

  For the first time, Jonathon could see that Mr. O was finally seriously considering Hardcastle’s offer. He quickly weighed his options but realized there were few left.

  “And what of your friend?” Mr. O asked, now looking beyond Hardcastle to Jonathon.

  Hardcastle glanced at him over his shoulder and then looked back to Mr. O.

  “He’s not affiliated with me,” Hardcastle said. “He stays behind.”

  Mr. O clenched his jaw and then asked, “And what about Eric Gill?”

  Hardcastle laughed. “What about him? He has nothing to do with this. This is between you and me. You take me on your boat, and we sail away. You let me take it from there—just trust me, I can get more dinosaurs if that’s what you want.” He crossed his arms and quickly became still and silent. He reminded Jonathon of a used car salesman that had just made his pitch.

  For what Jonathon counted as the third time, Mr. O leaned over and whispered something to one of the men holding a machine gun that flanked him. While he did this, Hardcastle slowly turned to face him and whispered, “This is your chance. If I were you, I’d dive into the drink and get back to the beach.”

  “You can’t possibly think that you’ll be able to stop them all by yourself,” Jonathon said.