Island Rampage: A Dinosaur Thriller

by Alex Laybourne

  “Unlock him whenever you like, but wait until we are gone,” one of the guards said, throwing a set of handcuff keys at Johan.

  The men made a quick exit, the doors closed and the plane moved into position in a matter of minutes. The young stewardess had seen worse, and knew better than to ask what was going on. She smiled sweetly and unlocked the handcuffs with the keys Johan handed her.

  “He will take it better if you do it, trust me.” Johan smiled, noting how the stewardess was of Asian origins.

  They clearly remembered the previous two instances where Godfrey had come to and knocked out three of the secret service agents that had been carrying him to his seat.

  “Enjoy your flight. If I can get you anything, don’t be afraid to ask,” she said, smiling as she walked back towards the cockpit.

  They took off and Johan settled into his chair. A rich man before the day started, the price he agreed with the US government was twice as much as he had expected to get. He had learned early in his life that the Americans would pay more for shit that other people would want for half the price.

  “They did it again, didn’t they,” Godfrey grumbled, rubbing his neck.

  “Yes, yes they did.” Johan nodded and smiled. “Don’t worry, Godfrey, they made it more than worth our while.”

  Chapter 10

  The early morning sun streamed through the windows. Dr. Nattie Rose got out of bed and padded across the room to the window. The air conditioning was cool on her skin. Her nipples hardened as she walked.

  Stretching, she stared out over the island at the thick expanse of green trees, the volcano rising up from their midst, and the sparkling blue of the ocean all around her. She was at peace for the first time in many years.

  Turning, she saw the bed was empty. Her partner from the night before was long gone, his pillow cold since the pre-dawn hours.

  She didn’t care. The night before had been amazing, and she knew the work schedule that the guards had to keep.

  Nick was worked like a slave. She hated his job, almost as much as he did.

  It pays the bills, he would say whenever the subject came up in conversation. Besides, it means I get to stay here with you. He always ended with that line, and Nattie fell for it every time. She had to, because she feared she was falling in love with the young security guard. That concept terrified her. Her heart could not take being broken again. The cracks were so deep it barely held together as it was.

  Showered and dressed, Nattie made herself a coffee and headed down to the main lab. The place was busy, as everybody came down and started making small talk.

  Dr. Ian Matthews stood comparing notes and readings with his assistant Remi Henry. The small French-African man’s head was nodding furiously as he scrambled to note down everything being said.

  On the far side of the lab, Drs. Jones and Hepburn were stood side by side, bent over a table, no doubt studying the readouts from the nightly data analysis run. The two women were near inseparable. Having not known each other before the work on the island began, they got on like a house on fire.

  Nattie thought they were a couple, but knew better than to ask. The women had it tough at times, with the sexually charged men of Black Arrow security always ready with a cat call or an invitation to their lodgings.

  Rob Reddan was waiting at Nattie’s desk, a coffee in hand ready for his boss. Seeing the cup, Nattie drained the one she was holding, and swapped it out for the full cup.

  “How are things looking here?” she asked, picking up the top file and scanning her way through the data.

  “Subject seventeen had a good night. The vitals are stabilizing and the wounds are healing nicely. There is no sign of infection or anything like that,” Rob replied, perky and chirpy as always.

  “That’s good, but what are you hiding?” Nattie asked, pounding on the small tell that she had learned to spot in her assistant’s demeanour.

  “I was getting to that. We lost numbers seven, nine, and fourteen last night,” he answered, looking at the floor as he spoke.

  “How the heck did we lose fourteen? She was one of the strongest,” Nattie said, shocked.

  Rob looked at the floor, wilting under the curious gaze of his boss. “Um, well, you see there was a problem with the cages. Number twelve managed to get through the bars and well … it wasn’t pretty.”

  For a moment, Nattie did not know what to say. She remained silent gathering her thoughts. “But number twelve was a third of the size, and docile,” she said, reiterating her surprise.

  “Yes, ma’am, but this attack seemed … um … it seems to have been sexually motivated.” Rob blushed as he mentioned such activities to his boss. At twenty-one years of age, Rob was no virgin, college had seen to that, but he had never met anybody as beautiful and openly sexual as Dr. Nattie Rose.

  “Wow, well, I guess that means we should discontinue trials on that strain also.” Nattie bit her bottom lip, chewing on the inside as she thought. “At least we have narrowed down our options even further. Now let me hear the good news.”

  They walked through the lab, stopping off at each of the six main stations. Early morning protocol dictated that every scientist be available to give an update on both their main stations and the linked sub-stations. The worst part of the job as far as Nattie was concerned were the volumes of paperwork she needed to complete each day. Not only did they rob her of hours of sleep, but only served to worsen her caffeine addiction.

  The other stations had not experienced any significant losses or reading changes overnight. There were some fluctuations, but everything appeared to be normalizing. Stability was increasing. They had not had an explosion in almost two weeks.

  After informing her team about the sudden sexual aggression in subjects treated with strain twelve, the decision was made to have them destroyed. The risk was great, and while the side effect could have interesting potential, it was not part of their core mission.

  They gathered up the test subjects, secured them in a transport container, and waited for security to come and dispose of them. It would be more paperwork, but certainly for the best.

  “Okay, people, let’s get back to it. This island is not going to advance itself,” Nattie stated, offering her customary, but not daily instruction to the team.

  Everybody responded well to Nattie. The team in the central building all reported to her, which meant her morning routine was repeated on the second level lab. The Culture Shop, as the residents christened it, was where the treatment strains were created; microbiology at its finest.

  Two teams of seven manned the stations, with an additional staff of interns and junior-level employees, each one thoroughly vetted and investigated by the US government before being given the position.

  The requirement to leave their families behind meant that almost all of the employees, at least those under Nattie’s command, were single. One, Dr. Malcom Prentiss was divorced, but the separation was far from pleasant.

  Recognized as being one of the best in her field, Nattie had been hired as the lead scientist, and from day one, had bene accepted by the group. Professionals, all equally dedicated to the cause, their passion was their work, and were happy to let somebody else deal with the paperwork and logistics of things. Motivated by discovery rather than money, the team fit together well.

  It took several weeks for the awkwardness and close quarters to feel less rigid and more like a home, but since then, they had developed a familial bond. They chatted, they laughed, and they worked. Everything had a time and a place. There had been no major arguments or quarrels. The transition had gone smoother than Nattie could have hoped for, and as a result, their findings and the results of the research were being reached ahead of schedule.

  They had endured several failures along the way, especially in the first few weeks, but once the spectacle of the islands’ native species wore off, and their knowledge of dosage strengths improved, then everything began to settle.

  Nattie sat in her office,
working her way through the morning reports as she prepared her own, which would be passed back to the mainland. With everything looking so promising, she had no doubt that their continued successes would bring positive feedback from her employers.

  The task assigned to the group was simple. They were to use the local wildlife as test subjects for a range of biological and biochemical agents. It was mad-science, the kind of thing frowned upon by many, but the sort of work that appealed to the creative mind. For the people in the field of molecular biology, especially within the military branches connected to warfare and counter-terrorism, there was nothing more exciting.

  With three remaining strands of the second run of strains still thriving, this round of testing looked promising. There was a buzz growing amongst the group, a belief that they were on the verge of their first major breakthrough. It brought with it a lift and a brightening of spirits, which only served to increase productivity and excitement for their product even more.

  A knock at the door startled her. “Come in,” she called.

  Rob Reddan appeared, his closely cropped head of hair peering round the doorway. As young as he was, he had a naive nervousness about him that Nattie found charming. She liked the kid and had plans to build up his role as they went along.

  “Sorry, but the security guy’s here. To get rid of the twelves,” he spoke.

  “What, oh, right, sorry, I forgot. Do you think you could take them?” Nattie asked, looking at the pile of papers that still needed her attention.

  “Um … I can do, I guess,” Rob stuttered. “It’s just, they are still alive.”

  Nattie stopped writing and looked up at her young assistant. “Okay, I’ll do it this time,” she said, getting up from her desk with a sigh. “But you need to countersign all of those requisition forms for me.”

  Rob nodded and moved behind the desk. He had a brilliant mind and did not mind the paperwork, but his soft heart never failed to surprise her. A clinical and precise man when it came to the experiments, he could not stand to be part of putting creatures to sleep.

  The security guard had already loaded the container onto the trolley jack, well versed in the workings of the lab.

  “Morning, Ferry,” Nattie said as she walked out of her office and up to the guard.

  “Hey, Dr. Rose,” Ferry answered.

  Ferry was an old hand at working Black Arrow Security. He had worked for them his entire career. A beast of a man, he had been all set for a glorious football career, until an unlucky tackle shattered his knee and sent all chances of a sporting career down the drain. Even now, fifteen years later, he still weighed in at over three hundred pounds, but was fitter that many of the men he worked with. His skin was a dark caramel colour, and his smile never failed to light up a room. No matter what day, what time, Ferry was always smiling.

  “Shame we have to keep meeting like this,” he said, the smile tempered but refused to be wiped from his face. He patted the large container. “Shall we?”

  “After you, I insist,” Nattie said, falling in behind him as they made their way down the hall.

  A lift shaft had been installed to take people from the lab area to the incinerator. No other section of the building had such luxury. It was stairs all the way.

  The incinerator room was at the end of a bare-brick corridor. No matter what the weather on the island, the corridor never rose above a chilly temperature. The burner, as people referred to it, was in its own room. Bare brick walls and a lingering metallic smell made the room Nattie’s least favourite place on the island—in the whole world for that matter—yet the nature of her job brought her down with alarming frequency.

  “These ones are still alive,” Ferry said, surprised.

  “Yes, this time they are,” Nattie answered, standing as close to the door as she could, without it being too obvious that she wanted to escape.

  Ferry shrugged his shoulders and turned on the furnace. It burst into life with a whoosh of gas and a ball of flame. Working quickly, Ferry reached in, grabbed two cages and threw them into the fire. They had to weight a good twenty kilos each, but Ferry tossed them as if they were nothing.

  “Ah, you bastard. Doc, watch out,” Ferry cried out. A heavy clatter echoed around the room, and suddenly, three of the creatures were loose.

  “Ferry, look out,” Nattie cried. She saw the blood spurting from his hand, which she saw was missing two fingers.

  “Get out of here, Doc,” Ferry pleaded with her as he kicked out at one of the puppy-sized lizards.

  The creature jumped into the air, evading the heavy boot swung its way. Landing on Ferry’s thick leg, it scurried up his body, its claws drawing blood as it moved.

  Ferry cried out and swatted at the creature. Grabbing it with his uninjured hand, he went to throw it, but the other two set on him. They sank their teeth into his flesh, and in a savage frenzy, tore his throat open. Ferry tried to scream, but all he managed to produce was a gargled rush of hot air.

  Ferry fell to his knees, his eyes wide and staring. The creatures were ravenous, tearing further and further into his flesh until they chewed all the way through and his head fell away from his body. Hitting the floor with a dull thud, it rolled a ways before coming to rest.

  Turning to run, Nattie saw one of the creatures had blocked her escape. It tilted its head as it rose onto its hind legs. The shorter front arms were raised, like a boxer ready for a fight.

  It jumped, and Nattie moved to one side. The others made their move. One leaped onto her shoulders, mounting her from behind. Teeth sank into her flesh, and the warmth of free-flowing blood soon washed over her right-hand side. Thrashing around, Nattie managed to shake the creature loose. It fell to the floor, and the other moved to replace it.

  There was a second door in the room and Nattie sprinted for it, ducking as she heard a hiss escape the closest of the number twelve strain creatures. The creature sailed over her head, snapping at her, only to collide with the metal door. Its head did not crack, but the flesh split and a thick blackish blood dribbled from the wound. Skin flaps peeled backwards from its skull, covering its eyes, which were positioned high on its skull.

  Grabbing at the door, Nattie pulled. It didn’t move. Remembering her key card, she fumbled in her pocket. Swiping the card, the door chirped and the lock opened.

  Trying the door again, it came open with ease, and a rush of warm, tropical air washed over her. Nattie fell from the room, collapsing into the grass.

  Before she could get back to her feet, the three creatures were outside. One jumped on her chest, pinning Nattie to the floor. The long claws of its feet digging into her chest, and more painfully, the bite mark on her shoulder. Crying out, hoping to gain the guards attention, she waited for the end to come.

  The creature pinning her down leaned its head in close, nostrils flaring and closing, sniffing its prey.

  Without warning, it stood up straight, its rear claws stabbing into Nattie’s stomach as it sought for purchase to keep itself steady. Sniffing at the air, the creature bolted, closely followed by the second. The third of the surviving number twelve strain stumbled out of the building, half-collapsing into the grass. It disappeared into the trees, following its brothers, the flaps of unfurled skin wafting in their air like wings.

  Nattie lay on the floor for a moment, lost to the undulating waves of pain that wracked her body. The stabbing pains in her chest from where the creature’s claws had punctured her skin were nothing compared to the burning in her shoulder.

  The ground was slick with her blood. It squelched as she rolled over and rose to her knees. Dizzy, both from the loss of blood as well as the receding flow of adrenaline, she made it to her feet. Stumbling, she walked around the building, leaning against the wall, her bloodied shoulder creating a crimson smear, like a blood-leaking snail.

  “Help me,” Nattie called out, her voice growing weak as her strength ebbed away.

  She collapsed to the floor by the main gates. She heard the commotion as th
e guards caught sight of her. Hearing a familiar voice, she looked up and promptly collapsed to the floor. Darkness engulfed her, swallowing the world in a single bite.

  Chapter 11

  Nattie came too, and for a moment, she thought that she was flying. Her body floated above the floor, and the world passed by around her. She remembered the attack, and her escape from the incinerator. Her vision focused, and the three guards came into view. They carried her through the building. She recognized the ceiling of the main entrance hall.

  “We need to get out there. Strain twelve … three of them … Ferry … dead.” Nattie forced the words out of her mouth, each uttered syllable made her dizzier and dizzier.

  “What is she saying?” Rob Reddan called as he jogged down the corridor.

  He had heard the commotion and been elected by the staff in the main lab to head out and investigate. He did not know about Nattie’s injuries until he saw her, although the blood trail that led him to the group had him expecting trouble.

  “She said we have a breach,” a gruff sounding voice spoke up. “Some of those freaks you guys work with escaped.”

  Rob turned around and saw the grizzly face of Mark Hunter staring at him. His thick, square jaw was covered in a thick grey stubble, and his cold, steel-blue eyes bored into their target like lasers.

  “She was … she was down at the incinerator. We had an issue with one of the strains, and they needed to be destroyed. She went down with … oh crap, what’s his name … the big guy, always smiling, Terry?” Rob racked his brain, trying to pull the specifics out of the panicked fog.

  “Ferry?” one of the men carrying Nattie spoke.

  “Yes, that’s him. She went down to the incinerator with Ferry.” Rob stopped walking and was flattened by Hunter, who either did not see, or more likely, did not care, that the scientist had come to a halt.

  “What kind of issue?” Hunter growled. He leaned in close, an odour of tobacco breath and cheap aftershave wafted into Rob’s face.