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

by Michael Esola

  And just like that Max was first, but not before stuffing the tooth into his back pocket. He began to climb the stairs back up to the surface of the boardwalk.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  John Corstine quietly opened the door to his small and modest, yet entirely comfortable, two-story residence three quarters of a mile from his offices at the boardwalk. He had taken one of the gas powered Jeeps and traversed a small maintenance road that had been plowed solely for the purpose of allowing him to drive to and from while he was in this part of the world overseeing the project.

  It had been a bone of contention among several of the early investors in the boardwalk who had found out that such a road had been constructed. With the construction came the demise of the hundreds of trees and vegetation that populated the area. The investors questioned how someone who was supposedly trying to save patches of rainforest in this part of the world, and who was trying with every last ditch effort to bring Ecological Television to fruition, would destroy a small yet still considerable size area all in the name of convenience to get to and from his residence. But it all simply added to the mystique and mystery that was John Corstine.

  Corstine let himself in through the elegantly designed bamboo door. Bypassing the living room, he made his way to the kitchen. He was in desperate need of a drink. A nice cold glass of sangria, his personal favorite would do the trick just nicely. He knew his limits, never drank himself to oblivion, but enjoyed his late afternoon drink with regularity.

  He poured himself the drink, sat in the kitchen for a moment, before making his way further through the house until he reached a glass door. He unlatched it and let himself out to what was his back veranda, a small brick patio, some twenty by twenty feet, with a nice view of the dense and entangled jungle.

  Corstine sat down on one of the outside patio chairs and took a sip of his cold and refreshing sangria. He just wanted to unwind a bit and let his thoughts roam.

  Running things from a remote control standpoint had been something that many investors had disliked of John Corstine, and the way in which he had gone about doing things in the past as well as the present didn’t help either. He had once purchased a strip mall development on the outskirts of Dallas, Texas, with the help of a consortium of ten or so investors, and was accused of never once visiting the site, not one single time. Corstine admittedly denied it though, citing he was on site twice and had hired a fulltime property manager to conduct business and oversee the redevelopment phase.

  Corstine took another sip of his sangria. Despite the lavish and jet-setting lifestyle that he portrayed to his investors and those closest to him, he was in debt, in trouble, and he knew it. He took another sip of his drink and gently rattled the two remaining ice cubes at the bottom of the glass.

  Corstine was in trouble with many of his projects and investments, and had already foreclosed on three large apartment buildings in the Northern California area. Several others in the Phoenix and Dallas areas were in danger of going under as well. He simply could not let that happen. He had to win, whatever the cost would be.

  He reclined in his seat and stared out at the thick, solid wall of vegetation consisting of vines, branches, and leaves as the jungle melded into a wall of green. A tree frog could be heard croaking somewhere, and that triggered a few more to chime in from the surrounding limbs and branches.

  Corstine needed the boardwalk to be a success, both for his personal as well as his financial growth. He had been hoping to use the profits to pay off the debts that his other properties had taken on over the years. He was also banking on the fact that people from all over the globe would take to the idea of being able to hike and experience the rainforest from what was essentially a road high in the sky.

  Corstine reached over and pulled out a pair of beat up old binoculars lined with a leather casing. He placed his glass down on the small table to the side of him. Something had caught his attention out yonder. Slowly he did his best to steady his focus.

  There was something up in the trees, and whatever it was there were sounds buzzing in and around it. At first Corstine almost missed it, but as he once again steadied the binoculars and backtracked about ten feet or so down and to the left, it vaguely looked like the ragged remains of a human body.

  Corstine stood to his feet so quickly that he nearly made himself lightheaded. Out about a hundred yards or so and seventy five feet up, entwined and dangling amongst the dense vine growth was a human body.

  Corstine’s blood went icy cold.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  William Jamison had chosen the aggressive and commanding route as he pushed and climbed back up to the surface. As he pulled himself up and out of the dark shadowy storage compartment of a hole and stood to his feet, his senses were back on heightened alert. Blessed with superior vision and hand eye coordination, along with blistering speed and power, he was launched into professional sports, more specifically the National Basketball Association.

  He knew though that he would have to use every bit of those talents and then some to take down what he knew was out there waiting for them, not to mention the pack of ravenous youngsters. Jamison quickly went on the offensive with the bow ready to fire at a moment’s notice as he did a quick 360 degree sweep of the area.

  His eyes scanned the boardwalk, looking for any possible hiding areas in which the small youngsters could be lurking. Noise from behind rustled in the foliage and he spun around just as Frederick and Ridley had come to the top of the boardwalk, their weapons also raised, resembling a makeshift special forces unit at best.

  Noise and chaos came bursting forth from the green foliage as several birds appeared to have been flushed from their perches. Jamison ducked as the three tropical birds made a beeline for it and flew over his head, flying tightly and lowly for a few brief seconds before finally rising up and out of view.

  Jamison spun back around again, having let down his attention momentarily, and by his standards that was too long. The branches that hung over the railing once again fluttered to life and out stepped a lime green bird. It hopped down off the railing and bounced along on two weak yet still functioning legs.

  Jamison immediately saw that the bird’s right wing was broken, as it dangled limply at its side. Noise once again rustled from the foliage and the bird promptly stopped and turned around to have a look. More rustling of the leaves followed, and the bird quickly turned around and began hopping away.

  Both Ridley and Frederick smiled to one another playfully as they let their weapons drop to their sides. Jamison, however, did not, his attention still intently focused on the patch of vegetation from which the bird had come. It was at that point that the attack came, but from the completely opposite direction.

  Frederick spotted the intruders out of the corner of his eye, but they were moving quickly in his direction, giving him little time to react let alone process fully what was happening. As he attempted to raise the 9mm into an offensive position, the first of the small creatures leaped towards him, mouth wide open, talons outstretched.

  Frederick almost had the weapon leveled when the creature came sailing through the air and slashed at him with its talons, gouging deeply into his neck before finally gravity took hold, sending the animal back down to the ground. Frederick howled in pain and was now bleeding profusely as the handgun clunked down hard on the boardwalk.

  The creature was coming back for more, and it was not alone. An intense shooting pain registered at Frederick’s left calf as one of the speedy predators slashed a deep gouge and then retreated. One by one, little by little, they were trying to pick the stumbling human apart, and bring him crashing to his knees. Frederick screamed again. The creature had torn his calf muscle wide open and along with it shredded part of his pant leg.

  With the weapon now on the ground, bleeding considerably, and in a world of immense pain, Frederick made a last fleeting attempt to retrieve the weapon. Once again the youngsters were bearing down hard on him, attempting to launch
a high speed aerial assault. Seeing this he did the only thing that seemed logical. He began to run as fast as he could as the three speedy young predators pursued him.

  Both Jamison and Ridley were under attack themselves, and they could do nothing for their injured comrade as he raced off into the distance.

  All Ridley saw were rows upon rows of small yet sharply pronounced teeth and equally razor sharp talons as they were being propelled towards him like falling meteorites. He unloaded several rounds into the air, spraying bullets everywhere, yet surprisingly hitting one youngster in the process. It let out a sharp piercing wail as its body flopped down on the boardwalk.

  William Jamison, meanwhile, had gotten down on one knee, steadied himself, and released an arrow that pierced through the neck of one of the oncoming attackers. It was killed on the spot mid-flight as the dead weight of the thing immediately hit the deck skidding. Quickly Jamison acted and in one swift move that would have done any competitive soccer player justice, he kicked the dead youngster over the side of the boardwalk with his size sixteen’s.

  The little creature could be heard falling hard through several branches as it plummeted downward towards the jungle floor. The sound of the commotion finally faded off into the distance.

  Frederick Douglass took a brief glance over his shoulders. He had miraculously managed to put some distance between himself and the young creatures. His peripheral vision on both sides told him that the vegetation had become extremely heavy. The growth hung over the railings, crowding everything in and giving it a tightly confined feeling as that of being in a maze. He managed to look down at his torn calf and saw a big open gash, but he kept running, kept moving as best he could.

  From his right ear he heard breaking limbs and branches. This all caught his attention. The foliage was coming alive as something massive seemed to be moving about. His pace and pulse quickened considerably, his feet continuing to move him forward at a frantic pace.

  Then from behind him, he heard the blood-curdling cries of the youngsters. They caught up to him and were now moving relatively quickly, galloping like a pack of reptilian carnivorous dogs.

  Frederick pushed himself beyond what he believed he was capable of. He had placed the unbearable pain to the back of his brain, as he was now in full on survival mode. One of the youngsters sped up on his left side and nosed out just ahead of the pace he was setting. It took a swipe at him, but he narrowly avoided the small yet razor sharp talons as he darted quickly to the right. The little creature swiped several more times, missing each time, but with each swipe Frederick was being pushed further and further towards the right side of the boardwalk, closer to the railing.

  This cat and mouse chase continued for another hundred yards or so, before Frederick finally realized that the youngster was not purposely trying to harm him. Rather it was pushing him as far as it could to the right, herding and corralling him in the same way a sheepdog might herd cattle into a desired location.

  Frederick had just about been pushed to the edge of the right side of the boardwalk, any closer and he’d be riding the railing itself as he continued to run. Thunderous snapping and cracking sounds followed as a giant predator suddenly emerged from the foliage and bore down upon the scrambling dot com entrepreneur.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  The constant drone of insects, combined with the sounds of the jungle was driving Collin Fairbanks to the edge of insanity. To relieve this feeling, he delved his hand into his pocket to feel the cold hard cash he had stolen from Corstine’s safe. Almost immediately he felt the soothing effects course through his body.

  Collin’s mind kept focusing on flashes of images here and there: past, present, and the future. He was doing his best to ensure that he stayed on track mentally. Collin kept reminding himself of a tropical beach setting with throngs of good looking women as he began to build a small property empire in Brazil away from the constraints of the United States government. He didn’t care about the prospect of being a slum lord; that title would suit him just fine as long as it was his own empire he was building and not someone else’s.

  Collin had already walked several miles, although it felt like about twenty as the oppressive and sweltering humidity rose with each passing hour. He dropped his backpack to the ground and wiped at a solid stream of sweat that had been continually running down the side of his face for quite some time. It was hot, damn hot. He pulled a blue bandana out of his back pocket and ran it quickly through his hair that had once been neatly gelled. Although he considered it to be an exercise in futility as the sweat would start accumulating and running almost as soon as he stuffed the bandana away in his back pocket.

  Collin sipped at his water bottle, deciding to chase it with some Gatorade, a combination he had been doing since his graduate school days. Slowly the future visions that were flooding his memories gave way to his present situation as he took in the endless sea of green splaying out in all directions. Collin didn’t like nature, never had, and most likely never would, but the idea of capitalizing and making money off of nature suited him just fine. He was after capital, lots of it to be exact. After all he was going to need it to initially fund and get his small empire off the ground without the help or backing of outside investors.

  Collin gulped down another swig of water and took in his last panoramic view of the place, fully absorbing Corstine’s damned ridiculous vision. Stuffing the bottle back into his backpack, he decided it was high time he continued on his way. His rendezvous with Jai Constantine awaited him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Downs watched as Max’s rear end made its way up the hanging staircase and out of view, trying his best to keep a sense of humor in such dire situations. He found it encouraging that the zoologist had agreed to go first, coming to the full realization as a whole that the group was far better off with an intelligent and sane Max Caldwell, than they were with a bumbling, thumb-sucking child.

  Max pulled himself through the opening, stood to his feet atop the boardwalk, brushed himself off, and peered back down towards the others below. He then crouched low to the boardwalk, out of view as much as he could muster. Listening for a moment, he motioned that the coast was clear with a wave of his right hand.

  Responding to the call of duty, Nat grabbed the ladder and began the short climb.

  Josiah turned to Downs and rolled his eyes. “Old Maxy’s trying to beat us both to the punch.”

  Downs chuckled lightly, although now wasn’t the time for such joking. “We got bigger issues.”

  “That we do,” Josiah said, craning his head up towards the opening as Nat continued to ascend.

  He waited until Nat had finally climbed her way to the surface before beginning on his own short journey. Just as Josiah was about to push off with his right foot, Downs felt a small tingling vibration beneath his feet.

  Josiah immediately turned towards Downs, neither of them speaking a word. Downs wondered if something large had been flung atop the boardwalk, or if they were indeed in the presence of the real deal.

  “You guys good up there?” Josiah asked in a low but certainly not a whisper of a tone.

  Nat peered down through the hole towards them, but before she could even utter a response, the boardwalk was hit with a second tingling vibration. This time the shockwave resounded and had some staying power, as things shook with a slight vibration for a few long and unnerving seconds.

  All at once, four eyes peered down at Josiah and Downs. Not giving it a second thought, Downs nudged Josiah and began to push him up towards the surface. Josiah didn’t say a word, quickly hurrying himself up the ladder towards the others. Whatever it was, they would face it together, as a team, and wouldn’t fancy the crowded and tight confining spaces of the maintenance level anymore.

  Downs took one last look around at the surroundings, and with that grabbed hold of the ladder and began climbing. As he pulled himself through the opening, his eyes quickly took in the entire scene. The group was scattered on eithe
r side of the boardwalk, peering out as best they could into the jungle that surrounded them from every angle.

  Nat stood for the first time with the pistol raised in front of Max who was pointing with his hand to some random point out in the vegetation. She looked ready to fire at a whim’s notice, with the possibility of shooting first and asking questions second.

  Downs glanced over at Josiah who had removed his own six inch retractable knife from his backpack. Together the team was no match for whatever was waiting for them in the deep vegetation, and they truly embodied the term ragtag in every aspect.

  Without warning the vegetation at Downs’ back rumbled to life with the sound of branches and limbs being obliterated. As quickly as the rumbling began, it ended. This time, however, the rumbling now came from beneath the boardwalk, and before any of them even had time to react, the vegetation in front of Max and Nat was alive with life.

  All fell silent as Downs’ eyes naturally gravitated towards Nat’s, but they were intercepted by the glare of Max. He looked surprisingly calm and in control of his emotions, a far cry from the whimpering school kid from earlier.

  Another terrifyingly long thirty seconds of silence ensued before the team could hear movement once again from below the boardwalk. It was making its way back towards where Josiah and Downs were standing.

  Downs’ eyes met with Max’s for one last fleeting moment, before the zoologist belted at the top of his lungs for all it was worth.

  “RUN.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  “Now what?” Ridley Bells asked, looking Jamison square in the eyes. “Gotta go after him. Can’t just leave him.”

  “No,” Jamison replied. “No, we can’t, but we certainly can’t go runnin’ into no bloody massacre either. You dig, brotha?” Jamison knew and had physically seen Frederick run further along this part of the boardwalk that they were on, but where Frederick had gone was truly the unknown.