One of the raptors moved, lunging forwards, its body dipping beneath the projectile. On his knees, Eamon watched as the remaining creature was blown to pieces by the rocket. The explosion tore the plants from the ground and sent a fireball barrelling into the sky. Charred raptor flesh rained down around them, while in the crater left behind, all that remained of the beast was a flowered lump of charred flesh and a foot stump. The skull landed with a thud not far from where Eamon lay, pinned beneath the bulk of the third raptor, whose long claws had effortlessly disembowelled the man.
“Char … Charles,” Eamon coughed, blood bubbling from his mouth. He craned his head to look for his friend but found he was all alone.
The raptor took off through the trees, leaving Eamon to die with his guts in his hands.
Charles forced his way through the spiny plants. Long thorns tore chunks from his flesh, ripping his arms and face apart, but his fear kept him moving.
He could hear the creature behind him but knew that if he could make it through the dense vegetation, he stood a chance.
Charles burst through the bush and into a clearing. He spun as he broke free, his rifle raised ready to fire at the creatures in pursuit. Blood blurred his vision, and his left hand was close to useless, the flesh all but removed from the back of his hand and along his forearm.
“Come on, you son of a bitch,” Charles growled, waiting.
He never heard the fourth raptor until it was too late. He turned and fired a burst, but the rifle fell to the floor before the last round was discharged. With a wet snack and a crisp crunch of bone being ground by powerful jaws, Charles headless body fell to the jungle floor.
The pursuing raptor appeared through the trees, its flank scorched and raw from the rocket detonation. The two creatures looked at each other for a moment, and then together they tore Charles’s body apart.
Chapter 2
“Did you hear that?” Godfrey said as he and Johan slid into the helicopter.
“I did. I think our friend Mr. Gallway finally met his match,” Johan said with a smile.
“What do you mean?” Godfrey asked, no longer interested in keeping his fear hidden.
“Godfrey, you do not think I would simply come to these islands blind, do you? I have had a small team checking the land within days of receiving the tip of its existence.” Johan smiled, and when he did, his eyes twinkled with a naughtiness that had been there since he was a toddler.
“Who? I don’t understand, boss,” Godfrey said as he flicked the rotors into life.
“I sent a team of hired hands out here the moment I heard about this islands location. They sent me several reports back before … well, before the island got them.” The smile returned, only this time, the face behind it looked maniacal.
“I think we can head back to the coast now, Godfrey. We have nothing to fear, and I have accomplished what I came for. The islands ae mine.” Johan pulled his door closed and put the headphones over his ears without saying another word.
As the chopper took to the skies, another boat came into view, heading straight for the large bay on the northern side of the island.
“Oh, I don’t think we need to worry about them, Godfrey,” Johan said, not even bothering to look down at the Swedish boat, or the large shadow that moved through the water beneath it.
***
Karl Johnson stood behind the control of his yacht. A rich man, he liked to take control of his own operations. There were a lot of people in the world who would want to see him dead, and leaving his fate in the hands of anybody but himself seemed ludicrous to him.
His crew, a combination of family and close friends, held his closest of confidences. The islands were going to be his opportunity at taking things to a new level. With three islands at his disposal, he would finally be able to create the fortress he needed; a place of solitude, where he could sleep soundly once more. His hold on the Scandinavian drug trade was concrete, and the new land mass would allow him to take control of production as well as supply.
The waters were smooth, and as Karl looked at the main island looming large before him and the long thin third island in the distance, he saw nothing but money.
It would be a change. His wife and kids would need to adjust to the new location, but boarding school would take care of the kids, and well, if his wife did not want to come, there were plenty of others who would.
“Lukas, Viktor,” Karl called down to his brothers. “We are coming up on the island. I want you out there watching for anything in the water. I trust your eyes better than any equipment on this thing.”
Lukas and Viktor were younger than Karl, but both eminently larger in all proportions. Lukas was a mountain of muscle, a veritable giant of a man who, with his blond hair and blue eyes, looked every bit the Viking. Viktor was similarly large, but his muscle was also accompanied by a large gut from years of bad diet and Viking quantities of beer.
Each man moved around to the front of the yacht, assuming a position either side of the bow’s tip. They stood watching the water, looking for any rocks or other such submerged hazard.
Karl had not even told his family about the islands, not until after they set out to claim them. His paranoia was growing, and his circle of trusted ears reduced with each passing month.
“Did you hear that?” Viktor asked as a rumble ran through the air.
“It was just a noise, baby brother,” Lukas answered with a smile.
“No, the islands, they are mad at us,” Viktor said, his eyes leaving the water to stare at the tall mountains of the main island. “There is something off about these lands. I can feel it.”
Lukas was silent, his own eyes scanning the deep greens and luscious foliage that began as soon as the beach ended. As the boat rounded the point of the island, he thought he caught sight of something darting through the trees. Squinting, he searched, but saw nothing.
Shaking his head, he turned to his brother. “Your crazy imagination is infectious, brother.” Lukas smiled, bellowing a laugh that seemed to echo around them, even with the distance between the two islands.
Nearby, something splashed in the water. The sound rolled like an explosion. Both brothers looked at each other. While Lukas would never admit it, he had a bad feeling growing in his stomach.
He turned his head and looked up at the wheelhouse. He could not see anything because of the sun glinting on the dark-tinted windows, but he knew his brother would be watching them.
“Stay alert, Viktor, Karl is always watching,” he whispered, shuddering as the thought of his brother’s disappointment tickled the back of his neck.
Both men feared their brother. They were there when he murdered their father in cold blood, executing him in order to take control of the family business. While neither would deny the change in business practices led to increased wealth, the knowledge of how it happened haunted both their dreams.
Without warning, the boat lurched suddenly to starboard. Both brothers stood off balance, and as a result, the impact threw them to the floor.
“What was that?” Viktor asked, pulling himself to his feet.
“Idioter,” Karl roared in Swedish, his temper racing down the boat ahead of the rest of him.
“I don’t see any rocks,” Viktor spoke, hurried, calling up to his captain, hoping to hold him at bay.
“The water is clear,” Lukas called immediately
Both men held their breath while the rest of the crew wore similarly pensive expressions.
The second impact hit the boat from underneath, lifting it clean from the water, before dropping it back down. Men cried out as their bodies broke and snapped from the jarring return to earth. The sheer bulk of the two Johnson brothers kept them on their feet.
“What was that?” The question was repeated, voiced by almost everybody still able to speak.
“Look, in the water.” Viktor pointed.
The shadow disappeared in an instant, the creature below the surface surged upward, breaking the surfa
ce, towering above the Swedish yacht before it came crashing down.
At least fifty feet long, the creature bore no resemblance to any beast people had seen before.
“A sea monster.”
“It’s the Kraken.”
“Turn us around, Karl, turn us around,” a crewmember screamed.
Cries rang out as everybody panicked and yelled over one another. Both Viktor and Lukas appeared on the main deck, just as Karl came down the steps from the wheelhouse.
“Did you see that beast, brother?” Viktor asked.
Karl did not reply, but shot his youngest brother a look at made his blood run cold.
“Karl, Karl, we need to turn this boat around. That thing will kill us all,” Axel, a cousin to the brothers, called.
“Nonsense, Axel. Surely you have seen a whale breaching before,” Karl began.
“Karl, that was no whale,” Axel interrupted, before a gunshot silenced him.
“If I say that was a whale, then it was a whale, and you will do better than to contradict me,” Karl shouted as Axel’s body hit the deck. “Now I want everybody in their places. We are bringing this boat ashore. I want these motherfucking islands. Are we clear?”
Nobody dared answer Karl, or even hold eye contact with him. Silence indicated agreement on a Johnson vessel.
“Good.” Turning, Karl climbed back up to the wheelhouse.
People assumed their positions again. The sea was calm, sparkling in the sun. After several minutes of silence, the crew began to believe that they had indeed been spooked by a whale.
They relaxed, and a nervous chatter broke out. Then the creature struck once more.
Rising up from the rear of the yacht, many did not even see the attack coming. The giant crocodile-like head, with jaws the size of a station wagon, surged out of the ocean. The crashing wave of water wiped many off their feet, and as the enormous body twisted, the jaws closed, sweeping the deck clear. Half of the crew was gone in an instant, swallowed whole.
The deck of the yacht was a wreck as the gargantuan body slid back into the water. Fixtures and fittings, everything had been torn free. The deck battered, a gaping hole of obliterated fiberglass consuming the majority of its surface.
Three men remained on the deck, their weapons raised, trembling in their hands. They twisted and turned, scanning the water for signs of the monster. From behind them, on the island, a roar rang out which, even from a distance, make the air tremble.
“Where is it?” Viktor and Lukas appeared again, both men perspiring from their bout of cardiovascular exertion.
“I don’t know,” Walter, the only non-blood family member on the boat, spoke up. He turned around, his face pale with fear, a fact that only served to terrify the two brothers.
Their sister had insisted that Karl bring Walter on board. Anna was the one person in the world not afraid of Karl. She told them of her husband’s history, and to that day, he had lived up to ever fabled tale of his exploits. To see him fearful was to see disbelief on the face of a God.
“Karl,” Viktor called out, unable to finish his sentence because of the rushing water that consumed him.
The creature rose from beneath the boat, its body hitting like a torpedo, tearing the hull in two.
Its body was round and fishlike. The large scales, each at least twelve inches across, looked more like armoured plates. Large fore-fins slapped against the boat, fully separating the two halves from one another.
Viktor was lost, his body thrown by the initial upwards blow. Above them, Karl called out as he was thrown from the wheelhouse. He fell on the broken deck, his body landing with the sickening snap of breaking bones. A large shard of hull speared through the back of his head, forcing both eyes from their sockets, leaving them dangling either side of his skull. His body twitched, fighting to the last moment.
The beast was gone again, disappearing below the waves, its long spiny tail thrashing against the sinking boat as it dove beneath the water. One thrash caught Walter, crushing his chest, and throwing him against the wall. He fell to the floor, dead, leaving Lukas alone.
Jumping from the wreckage, he dove into the water and started swimming. Panic consumed him, direction lost all meaning and importance. Distance from the sinking ship was his only concern. Misguided as it was, his survival instinct merely told him to flee one situation. The rest would come later.
Lukas swam, pulling his giant body through the water with long powerful thrusts. With each stroke, he imagined the jaws closing around him, darkness was his future. He cried and shouted as every time he lived to swim a little further. He found it cruel, convinced the creature was toying with him.
When his feet first hit solid ground beneath the waves, he did not believe it.
Exhausted, crawling and clawing his way up onto the rocky shore, Lukas pulled himself from the water. The sharp rocks sliced into his hands, carving deep gouges into his flesh, but he did not care. Wounds would heal, and he had survived worse in his years.
Collapsing on his back, Lukas took deep gulps of air. He could not move. His vision blurred, moving from bright to dim, sharp-edged to a blur. He fought to remain conscious. He knew he needed to keep moving.
To his right, something moved. He heard a rustling, clicking, clacking noise. It made him think of the scurrying sound cockroaches made when chased.
Turning his head, Lukas opened his mouth to scream as the large, flat-bodied roach-like creature walked toward him. Squatting down, it smothered him, while pincers tore the flesh from his face.
Lukas screamed until his throat was mercifully torn out with the wet rip of tearing cloth.
Chapter 3
The helicopters came in waves, bringing with them fresh rounds of supplies and crew members, both of which were used up at an alarming rate.
Construction work on had been going on for almost three months, and in that time, seventeen crew members had disappeared. They strayed from the guarded complex and were never heard from again. People knew better than to ask. They were paid too much to care.
They all heard the roars that came from the trees, and there were stories depicting monsters of all shapes and sizes, but nobody pressed the matter. Such tales were written off as scaremongering tactics, designed to keep people working and on site at all times.
The contracts each man signed were simple and specific. Each crew member would be paid fifty-thousand dollars in cash money, with an additional bonus payment for completing everything on time. The only requirements were complete segregation; you arrived on the island, and worked on the island until the job was done, and you did not ask questions.
Orders were given from one of three identified Black Arrow Security operatives, and they were to be followed to the letter. Anybody failing to meet those requirements would be removed from the site and their pay forfeited.
“With fear and money, you can control the world,” Johan said as he lit the Cuban cigar he held clenched between his teeth. They stood on the top floor of the rapidly constructed main building on the central island. Named by those that worked there as Hot Pocket, after the active volcano that provided the highest point on the island.
The building had four floors and was built on the rocky plateau Johan had first found four months previously. A tropical storm had kept them from moving in to commence construction for almost a month.
Johan Krauss was the Owner and CEO of Black Arrow Security, a privately contracted firm who had strong connections to several political leaders and nations. Their reputation was one tainted with accusations of the role they had played in both the War on Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria, and even the recent assassination of the Turkish president.
The company’s name was clean. None of the charges raised ever stuck. Black Arrow never left a paper trail. Krauss saw to it that those sorts of things were taken care of.
The island facility was a gold mine for him. The finder’s fee alone was astronomical. Black Arrow moved in first and established a well-guarded perimeter. They bu
ilt reinforced walls that kept the local wildlife away from the contraction sites, and had patrols on the sentry posts twenty-four hours a day.
It was a costly operation, but one that Johan knew was necessary. The plans for the island were drawn up, and Johan saw to it that the people brought in to work on the project were capable to work under the presented condition, and more importantly, expendable, because accidents happen, and questions are a man’s worst enemy.
In the distance, a roar shattered the silence of the night. Below him, the workers scurried back to their tents and shelters. The island terrified them, as it rightly should. For large periods of the day, that fact could be forgotten, at least forced into the recesses of the mind, as work took center stage.
Only when the work was done, the shifts ended, and the night rolled in, did fear once again raise its head, creeping out into the darkness like some nocturnal beast, waking and stretching before running rampant through the minds of those left behind.
The roar was enough to send them running for shelter, for even the thin canvas of their tents and the synthetic sleeping bags and bed covers meant an extra layer between them and the beast. While not much, it was all they had, and they learned to be grateful for it.
“They cry, you know,” Amare said as he moved beside Johan.
Amare had worked for Black Arrow for over twenty years. In that time, he had worked his way up from a skinny kid who stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time, to the head of security. He was a grizzled thirty-year-old man, with a strong body, skin as black as a void in space, and the coldest blue eyes Johan had ever seen.
There was nobody besides Godfrey who Johan trusted more.
“I remember you used to cry in your sleep too, Amare,” Johan answered without looking round.
The man said nothing. “They are afraid of the creatures on this island. It makes them work hard.” The African man laughed at the weakness of the men below him.
“We are making good progress. I say, let them stay afraid. If needed, make sure they remember that fear every now and then,” Johan said, turning slowly to face his head of security. “You are a trusted friend, Amare, I know you will do right by this place.”
Island Rampage: A Dinosaur Thriller Page 2