Prehistoric: (A Prehistoric Thriller) (Bick Downs Book 1)

by Michael Esola

  Josiah nodded and smiled. “Will do, man. Will do.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “You two missed an amazing display,” Frederick said as Downs and Josiah returned to the group.

  “Yeah damn near knocked me off my feet,” Jamison fired back sarcastically.

  Downs would have rolled his eyes in scornful distaste but Jamison’s eyes were focused on him, with what seemed like one eye on that of Josiah as well. Jamison seemed to have it out for the paleontologist, though Downs wasn’t quite certain what the reason or internal motives exactly were.

  The two of them had taken two completely different routes in life. Jamison entered college as an avenue to master his skills and make the jump to the NBA. Josiah had entered the university system to hone and develop his paleontological skills and to earn a PhD in the subject, hopefully one day returning to the university setting as a professor, hoping that, in turn he would receive grants and the ability to fund his digs in the remote far flung corners of the world.

  Whatever the reason was, there was obvious tension between the two, and Downs had already made it his mission to keep the two of them apart, but, most importantly, to keep the peace.

  “As we were saying,” Max continued. “The small gathering got flushed from their perch and flew up and into the air. Something must have spooked them.”

  Downs shrugged his shoulders. “Next time. Next time we’ll catch it.”

  Jamison intercepted Frederick and Ridley and pushed them a few feet away from the others.

  “I’m just not seein’ the potential of this place,” Jamison said into the ear of Ridley. “Sparse wildlife here and there, hit or miss opportunities to see things. Just not seein’ it.”

  Frederick nodded. “Me too. I side with your concerns.”

  “Now wait a second, you two. We haven’t even seen the rest of the boardwalk yet. Let’s not jump to rash conclusions here,” Ridley said.

  Jamison stood tall and stepped directly in front of the television entrepreneur, looking him square in the eyes. “When it’s my upfront capital, I’ll be damned if I’m not going to jump to conclusions, no matter how early in the ball game it may be. Question everything. Trust little to no one.”

  Ridley stepped back. Although he was a large man himself, he was never one for confrontations, and he seemed like half a man compared to the 6’9” Jamison.

  Frederick didn’t like Jamison, at least that was what he was starting to feel as he had observed the whole encounter from the side of them, but he did see where the big man was coming from. “I just don’t see how you monetize such a place.”

  “Mona what?” Jamison asked.

  “Monetize,” Frederick continued. “You know when you own a website and decide it’s time to monetize it by placing advertisements on the site in return for payment, or when you have a successful video up on YouTube, you can place advertisements on the video. Monetize is the key word here.”

  Jamison raised his hands and began to press them downward, as if he was trying to squash Fredericks’s thoughts. Frederick didn’t let Jamison see the look of disgust on his face but thought to himself the idea of Jamison becoming insanely wealthy off the idea of guaranteed contracts.

  There are no guarantees in the business world, Frederick thought to himself. Would be nice if all you had to do was incorporate a company and there would be a guaranteed contract waiting for you to sign like that of professional athletes.

  Frederick knew damn well that athletes were spoiled, some spoiled to the tune of Fortune 500 CEO executive compensation plans, and salaries that no man or woman should receive, but one could make the exact same argument for the business world at large. Nonetheless, William Jamison had made a small fortune off of a talent and trade that the world deemed worthy of multi-millions.

  Frederick kept his mouth shut though. He didn’t question Jamison’s ability to back his word up with cash, but what he did question was his business acumen. The due diligence that he had already pulled on Jamison raised several red flags in his opinion. There were a string of restaurants following his successful career in the NBA that went belly up for some reason or another. From the public records that Frederick was able to pull on Jamison, it showed that his chain of restaurants were up and running for only sixteen months, just a little over a year before citing “lack of funds” as the main reason for each of their ultimate demise.

  Frederick didn’t stop there though, and discovered that Jamison had come up with another idea of opening a string of Vegan restaurants, and being that he also maintained a residence in Berkeley, California, he believed they would thrive under such conditions. They did not though, and as Frederick once again investigated more into the public records, it appeared that Jamison had run into several logistical issues surrounding the functionality of the restaurants, the main one revolving around parking issues, or lack thereof.

  Frederick wondered if Jamison was the kind of athlete who watched out for his own funds and personal interests, or if he had someone doing it for him, a handler who watched out for his own financial well-being. Someone who people like Jamison could call in the wee hours of the morning after they had gotten a DUI, and who would work diligently to make it all better.

  Frederick wondered a lot of things as the humidity continued to suck the everlasting life out of them. It was hot, uncomfortably hot to say the least.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “I need you two to do me a big favor,” Nat said as she came walking over to Downs and Josiah.

  Josiah just looked at her. “Pretty tough when we’re hanging with ‘the most interesting man in the world.’”

  She laughed. “I know, right. What hasn’t the jackass done?”

  “We were just talking about that very subject,” Downs added.

  Nat now stood in front of both of them but focused mainly on Josiah. “I need you two to just grin and bear it. Let that guy say whatever he wants, process it, and then discard it like the utter trash that it is.”

  “I’m assuming you’re referring to none other than Mr. Jamison,” Downs jokingly said.

  “How’d you guess that,” Nat joked. “But in all seriousness, as you guys can already see, he’s a real jackass. A real big one to put it bluntly, and I’m no happier than the two of you probably are for having him here, but he is, and he represents a sizable investor to John Corstine.”

  Downs folded his arms. “We know.”

  Nat let out a sigh. “I need you two to just get along with him for the duration of the trip and then that’s it.”

  “And then plunk down a sizable amount of cash with him and invest in the project,” Downs countered.

  “Correct,” Nat replied. “And never have to see his ass again, except at maybe a general meeting once or twice a year. Can you two do that for me?”

  Downs looked over at Josiah and then back up at Nat. Both of them nodded in accordance.

  “Good,” she said, “because, here he comes.”

  Downs took a deep gulp as he could clearly see Jamison heading towards all of them, with Ridley and Frederick not too far behind.

  Here comes trouble, Downs thought.

  “You ladies done with your little tea party,” Jamison announced, striding in like he was trying to barge into a private party or something.

  “We were just talking about you,” Nat said with as genuine a smile plastered across her face as she could muster.

  Jamison grinned at her. “I bet it was something nice then.”

  “Check this,” Jamison said. “The three of us were talkin’ about just doing our own thing for the rest of the day. You know takin’ our time round this little invention of Corstine’s, walkin’, talkin’, checking under the boards to make sure all the nuts and bolts are nice and tight. You know that kind of thing. Do some of our own due diligence round here and meet up with you all a little bit later.”

  It was quite apparent that Nat was taken aback by the oddity of the request.

  “But we’re supposed
to be a team for the next two days man,” Josiah countered. “Don’t you understand the team concept here? I pass the ball to you, you pass to someone else, the end result is we score a basket. Don’t you understand that?”

  The minute the words flew out of his mouth, Downs really wished they hadn’t, but to his surprise Jamison did not comment back. Rather his full attention was focused solely on Nat.

  “Look,” Jamison said. “The three of us want to be our own team for the rest of the weekend, a team of potential investors doing the necessary due diligence of this place by our own eyes and account. Not all the birds and the bee’s crap that might have been planned. No offense”

  Jamison looked over to Downs. “You’re more than welcome to join us if you want.”

  Downs nodded as he folded his arms. “Thanks but I’m fine right where I am.”

  Jamison didn’t even so much as bat an eye at Downs’ response.

  “But that was the agreement,” Nat replied. “The plan was to give you all the tour as if you were actual paying customers. Then you could come to your own conclusions about this place. That was the agreement.”

  “Well, plans change,” Jamison said, folding his massive arms, the thickness in them resembling that of a python.

  Downs suspected it was highly plausible that Frederick and Ridley were just going along with what Jamison was saying, but it was believable that they weren’t entirely on board with his plan, but for some reason or another had decided to go along with it.

  “Is this what you all want?” Nat asked, looking past Jamison and in the direction of Frederick and Ridley.

  Both of them gave a quick nod of the head, although from where Downs was standing, it appeared to be a half-ass nod at best. Just as Nat was about to speak, something slammed down hard onto the boardwalk.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Collin Fairbanks sat in front of the computer screen and pressed a few buttons, examining the different security cameras as they came up on the screen in front of him. Behind him John Corstine strode back and forth nervously, having decided to forego his evening with his Kindle in favor of returning to the boardwalk. Anxiety, tension, and an impending sense of overwhelming doom were the issues currently plaguing Corstine as he continued to pace.

  There were roughly a dozen or so security cameras that had been set in place all along the boardwalk, in one mile intervals, to monitor and make sure things were functioning smoothly. More security cameras were in the works but for now the number sat at twelve. Another thing to add to Corstine’s “to do” list. Collin was busy looking at security camera number six. Something off in the trees had caught his attention and he adjusted the camera to have a better look. He yawned quietly and wiped his eyes, looking over at his empty coffee mug which was in desperate need of a refill. For the past two nights he had little to no sleep, making sure everything was in place for this investor weekend. He planned to sleep for a solid week once he returned to civilization. However, for now he continued to focus all his might and energy on the computer screen in front of him.

  Collin looked once again at security camera number six and shook his head, dismissing what he thought he saw earlier as nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

  Corstine, meanwhile, had walked to the corner of the office, gazing out at the rainforest as he had been known to do from time to time. It had always done him good and he considered it to be his safeguard, and it was one of the main inspirations for, in fact, creating a thirty-five mile track of boardwalk high in the sky in the first place. Corstine believed that the world would flock to see it, experience it, and get the same type of metaphorical high that he felt every time he gazed out into the treetop landscape. The boardwalk would be as solid and familiar as if one were walking on the deck in his or her own backyard.

  Collin toggled back and forth between a few more buttons, and brought up security cameras seven through twelve.

  “Any update?” Corstine asked from the far corner, still staring out at the green.

  Collin took a closer look, zooming in with camera seven and then quickly zooming out. Corstine was now hovering over his assistant’s back once more, literally breathing onto the hairs of his neck.

  Collin could feel John Corstine’s presence behind him. He could always feel his looming presence in his life. He had worked for Corstine for the better part of three years now, starting simply as an assistant doing clerical work and making the occasional coffee or dry cleaning run to eventually working his way into Corstine’s financial life, both personal and business.

  Not that Collin minded. He had been looking for an opportunity like this for a long time, an opportunity to grow and nurture a venture into something far greater. Many of his friends had taken safe and sound corporate jobs, but not Collin. It wasn’t his cup of tea.

  Collin felt as though he had been slowly infiltrating his way into Corstine’s life, gaining his trust week in and week out, until he had finally reached the level of trust where he was responsible for a small yet growing wing of Corstine’s vast fortune. He had assigned Collin with a wing that promptly was referred to as “new and emerging markets.” Currently under this new wing was the boardwalk project as well as the potential for Ecological Television, which hinged strongly on the involvement of investor Ridley Bells.

  Bells, as Corstine would often fondly refer to him, was the main component in the idea behind Ecological Television. Corstine knew that he could look elsewhere for capital, and he had, over the years, developed close ties with angel investors and several different venture capital companies around the world. However, the first-hand expertise as well as the connections and contacts within the cable and satellite communities were what Ridley Bells brought to the equation. Corstine knew that this was something which would be very hard to match with any other person he might bring on board.

  Corstine knew that he needed Bells’ expertise, having created and built from scratch two successful television networks. He would be hard pressed to find someone more suited to launching a new television channel in an already crowded and difficult industry. Corstine had been through the rigors of pitching the concept for the channel to a select group of people, and he had already been told “no” more times than was good for the human spirit. Bells told Corstine not to worry about the capital part, that he would leverage his twenty plus years in the television industry to help them secure the necessary financial backers to get them up and running in a timely manner.

  Corstine enjoyed the idea as well as the logistical challenges that Ecological Television would present, but, for the moment, his thoughts were entirely focused on both getting the boardwalk officially up and running and on the security camera at which his assistant was still currently staring.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The creature’s mouth hung slightly agape as it adjusted itself from its perch high atop one of the towering trees. It had climbed and forced itself more than three quarters of the way up into the canopy. With its two back limbs holding the majority of its weight from below, and providing a stable and sturdy base, its two front limbs still served a purpose as they held on to a nearby branch above it while the rest of its body clung tightly to the tree. Suction cups like that of tree frogs was what made the unachievable achievable, thus allowing a creature of this size to move about between the trees. Its four three-toed feet looked and felt like those of a tree frog, just on a much larger, more robust scale. Each of the feet spanned the size of a manhole, with the actual suction cups on par with a basketball in terms of size. Its feet were tinged a forest green, and they were lined with three enormous talons on each foot. The talons were there to puncture through both prey and tree bark if needed, an added luxury to something that was already a fully capable and adept predator.

  Despite its large size, it was surprisingly nimble, moving from tree to tree as if it were a fraction of what it truly was, its long limbs allowing it to move in and about its rainforest habitat like some type of overgrown predatory tree frog.
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  The creature tilted its head to the side and stared at the small humans. It was processing information, thinking, working out logistics, all while in the background a raw and growing hunger rumbled inside its stomach. This feeling was something for the moment that it was containing, but it knew somewhere inside its brain that there would be a breaking point where it could contain itself no longer.

  The humans looked tiny and insignificant to the onlooker despite the fact that it had only encountered a handful of them over the years. Tilting its head to the other side, it had three memories regarding them. The first was when it first laid eyes on them from the secrecy that only its dense rainforest habitat could provide. The second memory was the way it remembered how it loved smelling their fear. The fear seemed to exude and ooze out of their very pores. It took delight in the way they panicked, the way they attempted to power themselves away from it with their small and often powerless legs.

  It loved every second of the chase. It hunted out of the need to feed, but also to quench the desire to hunt. It enjoyed the pursuit, and, most importantly, the conquest of its victims. Lastly, the creature remembered how they tasted. The first remembrance of bones breaking and cracking under the immense power of its jaws mixed with the pleasant warm taste of human blood drove it almost to the point of insanity.

  It reached out with one of its powerful front limbs and pulled itself with ease to one of the nearby tualang trees, the basketball-sized suction cups making it all possible. It had hunted and patrolled these forests for years now, with very little, if any, human contact whatsoever. Keeping mostly to the treetops, it descended only to the forest floor to hunt and drink, and the prey consisted of, reticulated pythons, Komodo dragons, and whatever else it could seemingly get its hands on. Anything was fair game. It was comfortable and adept on the forest floor as well as up high in the canopy. As it continued to look on, it appeared that a new and growing food source was brewing before its very eyes as the creature once again cocked its head to the side and adjusted itself.