by C. G. Mosley
There was a moment of silence. Silas was apparently mulling it over. Finally, he responded, making no attempt to hide his displeasure. “Okay, I’ll take Annie to shore. I’m gonna give you ten minutes and I’m coming back for you.”
Jonathon rolled his eyes and knew it was useless to try and argue. “Okay, get going. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he reluctantly agreed.
He waited until he heard the boat buzzing loudly back to shore. He took a breath and glanced upward again, the pterosaurs still swarmed above. What are they waiting on? He took a breath and decided his best bet was to run toward the bridge for protection. He prayed the door would be open, and when he found the courage to run for the bridge, he was relieved to find that it was. He slammed the door shut and put his back against it, sliding slowly to the floor. As the ship rocked gently in eerie silence, another terrifying sight caught his eye. Straight ahead of him, about twenty feet away, another body was facedown and lifeless on the floor. Captain Blackstone’s remains were in much better condition that his first mate. He’d apparently been attacked but managed to escape into the bridge, dying of his mortal wounds shortly after. A dark, crimson pool of blood circled his body and the thick liquid gleamed in the light from the large windows at the front of the bridge. Jonathon grimaced at the realization that already two lives had been taken due to the negligence of Angus Wedgeworth.
Suddenly, a loud thud echoed above his head. A second later, a loud screech rang out and Jonathon felt his heart begin pounding again. He remained deadly silent; however, he couldn’t help but wonder how much that actually mattered. That thing knows I’m in here. It’ll wait as long as necessary for me to come out. He weighed his options and realized there were very few to be weighed. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of just sitting there and seeing just how long the pterosaur would be willing to wait. He peered around at his surroundings. He highly doubted the animal could get in there with him. The windows at the front of the bridge could be broken out, but as large as the pterosaur was, he felt certain there would be no way it could get in. He’d all but made up his mind when another horrifying realization hit him like cruel slap in the face. He glanced at his watch. Silas is going to come back for me any moment! Waiting it out simply wasn’t an option anymore. He crawled over to the nearest window and quietly raised his head just enough to peek out. There was a slight shroud of mist between the boat and the beach but it wasn’t enough to blot out his view. He breathed a sigh of relief as he caught sight of the boat still at the edge of the beach and then of Silas and Annie watching intensely. Unfortunately, he knew it wouldn’t last long. Silas would keep his word and he would no doubt attempt to come after him. Jonathon hoped that Silas could see the large pterosaur on the roof of the bridge, but he couldn’t be sure. The mist seemed to get thicker the higher up you got and the top of the bridge had to be at least fifty or maybe even sixty feet off the ground. Jonathon heard the pinging, clicking sound of claws scurrying across the roof. He instinctively crouched back down and banged the back of his head against the wall. He caught a glimpse of his bleeding leg and almost immediately felt a surge of pain. With all the excitement, he’d forgotten all about his injury. The wound burned, but it wasn’t bad. After all, a banged-up leg wouldn’t matter much if the rest of him became bird food. Think! There’s got to be something in here that can help you out of this!
He skimmed over the area again and a brightly colored object immediately jumped out into view. His answer was in a cabinet under the large table in the center of the room. A single-shot flare gun lay innocently on a metal shelf, it’s brightly orange color shone like a beacon of hope. He crawled over to it and held the pistol grip tightly. He remembered the jugs on the deck the night before, Angus had told him they were fuel reserves. A crazy plan began to form in his head. The only thing he needed now was bait.
The sound of a boat engine starting made him jump. Not yet, Silas! Time had suddenly run out and he continued to search desperately for something to use as bait. A bag of chips or maybe even a piece of chicken. Anything! There was no food of any kind to be found. Jonathon chewed his lip as he heard the motor boat drawing near. Finally, an idea popped into his head. It wasn’t a good one, but it was all he had on such short notice. He scurried over to Captain Blackstone and pulled off his Atlanta Braves baseball cap. He then took the cap and dragged it through the thick layer of blood all over the floor. He made a disgusted face, but continued to sop up as much blood as he could. His eye caught a glimpse of a large ring of keys lying close to Captain Blackstone; they reminded him of a ring of keys a jailor would use. Jonathon thought of the locked shipping container on the beach. Worth a try, I guess. He snatched up the keys and wiped the blood off of them the best he could on Captain Blackstone’s shirt. After placing the keys in his pocket, he grabbed the blood-drenched cap and scrambled back on his feet (his leg reminded him painfully that it was injured) and he ran for the door. When he swung it open, the flying reptile above his head screamed with nightmarish glee. Then he heard another scream and realized there were two of them on the roof! He peered out toward the bow and spotted the jugs of gasoline. Jonathon retrieved his knife from its sheath one last time and looked down at it with remorse. He’d had that knife since he was a teenager and it had practically become a part of him. Now, if things worked out right, it would save his life. He pinched the blade between his index finger and thumb, allowing the handle to rest on his wrist. He’d been throwing knives his entire life so hitting a wide stack of gasoline jugs would be a piece of cake. He took aim and whirled the knife effortlessly. The blade penetrated the center jug he aimed for. Immediately gasoline began chugging out, spilling all over the deck. Couldn’t have worked out any better, he thought. Now the bait. He grabbed the cap by the bill and threw it like a Frisbee. It landed almost perfectly next to the jugs. The pterosaurs leapt off the roof, clumsily tripping over each other as they hastily chased after the smell of fresh blood. As soon as they reached the cap, Jonathon raised the flare gun and squeezed the trigger. A bright ball of fire ejected with a bit more kick that he’d anticipated. Jonathon had never fired a flare gun; he’d never had a reason to. The shot wasn’t pretty, and it wasn’t spot on, but it was close enough. He didn’t stick around to see what happened next, he just ran. He ran as fast as his injured leg would allow, and as he approached the end of the deck, he didn’t even take time to look over the side and make sure Silas wasn’t directly below him. There wasn’t time for that. The gasoline ignited, and he heard the roar of the giant fireball erupting mere feet away from him. A wave of heat seemed to push him outward and further away from the boat. He opened his eyes briefly to see that Silas indeed had been directly below where he jumped off. However, it didn’t matter now; he would clear him with ease. He splashed down hard in the cool Atlantic, plunging deep below the surface. The icy sensation felt great and he was just happy to be feeling anything. It meant he was alive.
As soon as his head broke the surface, he heard Silas calling out to him. His new friend and the boat were only a few feet away, and he casually swam over to him. Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream pierced through the sky and Jonathon jerked his head around in time to see one of the large pterosaurs tumbling off the deck, its body engulfed in bright orange and yellow ribbons as it too plunged into the ocean. For a moment, he felt pity for the animal. It was a horrible way for any creature to die. He shook the thoughts out of his head as he remembered Denny and Captain Blackstone. That wasn’t any way for a human to die. Jonathon reached out and grabbed one of Silas’s massive forearms, the older man pulling him aboard with relative ease.
He looked over at Silas. His face was pale, a mixture of shock and disbelief. “You alright?” Jonathon asked.
Silas nodded, a partial smile cracked his face. “Yeah, the better question is are you alright?”
Jonathon nodded.
The two men sat in silence for a moment, staring at the flames wisping over the bow of the boat. “The deck�
��s metal. When the gas burns off, the fire will go out,” Jonathon said. “We’ll still be able to use the ship to get out of here.”
Silas nodded. “I’m assuming you found the captain and Denny?”
Jonathon rubbed seawater from his eyes and nodded somberly. “What was left of them.”
Silas’s face grew paler, and for a moment, Jonathon thought he may pass out. Suddenly, he shook his head, seemingly forcing himself to remain calm. “Okay,” he said finally. “Let’s get back to shore, get your girlfriend, and get the hell off this island.”
“I agree,” Jonathon answered.
Chapter 18:
Lucy’s feet ached, her skin itched from insect bites, and her throat was parched from thirst. As if she weren’t bad enough off physically, she was also emotionally drained. Life had been a rollercoaster ever since she’d set foot on this wretched island, but she’d gritted her teeth and held on for all she was worth. That is until an extraordinarily painful thought began bothering her like a bad toothache. It had been a few hours since she’d been forced to leave Jonathon and the others tied to a tree. They were left for dead. There were two possibilities: either they managed to escape or they’d already been eaten. Obviously, the first scenario was the one that she preferred, but the more time that passed, the more she began to feel doubt. She knew Jonathon and she knew him quite well. One thing she knew was that if he had managed to escape, he would come for her. It’s been hours…plenty of time, she thought. She began to tell herself that there was a real possibility that she may never see him again. Suddenly, she felt dizzy. She needed to sit down.
“We need to stop,” she said sternly.
She stopped unexpectedly and Angus inadvertently jabbed the barrel of his handgun into her back rather sharply.
She jerked away from him and glared back at him, her eyes burning with anger. “I’m tired. Osvaldo and Armando are tired. We’re thirsty and we need to rest for a few minutes,” she demanded.
The last thing that Angus wanted to do was stop. The fountain of youth was getting close; he could feel it in his gut. There would be plenty of time to rest at nightfall; every ounce of daylight should be spent walking. However, as he stared into Lucy’s brown eyes, he knew trying to force the others forward without listening to any of their complaints would cause more conflict. He glanced at his watch. It was three o’clock. Nightfall was roughly three hours away. When he looked up, he noticed that Osvaldo was eyeing him sharply, eagerly awaiting his response. Deep down, Angus believed that Osvaldo probably wanted him to push them onward. He wanted more conflict to arise so that he could plot an escape. Angus clenched his jaw. Not today, buddy.
“Very well,” he said finally. “We’ll take five minutes then continue on.”
Lucy said nothing; she just turned away from him and took a seat on a nearby boulder covered in moss.
Angus walked to Osvaldo and leaned over to speak, doing his best to keep their conversation as private as possible. “How much farther?”
Osvaldo stared into the old man’s eyes a minute, and then he scanned the landscape around him.
“How much farther?” Angus asked again, this time a little louder.
Osvaldo shrugged. “I do not know. I told you, it’s been a long time.”
Angus exhaled deeply through his nose. “Think!”
Osvaldo put his hands on his hips and surveyed the area again. “I’m sorry; I’m just having trouble remembering.” He shot Angus a quick, arrogant smile.
The old man’s blood pressure picked up immediately. He was somewhat surprised that Osvaldo was still showing signs of defiance after everything that had happened. It enraged him. How dare he? Without saying a word, he quickly lifted his gun and planted it against Armando’s temple. Osvaldo jumped to his feet, but stopped short of attacking. He didn’t want to do anything to cause Angus to pull the trigger. Armando’s eyes widened and he began to pull away. Angus grabbed the boy’s thick hair and held him against the gun. “Be still, boy,” he growled.
Lucy jumped to her feet. “What in the hell are you doing?” She began to approach, but Travis grabbed her from behind and squeezed her tightly against him.
“Stay right here with me, honey. You’ll be safe with me,” he whispered in her ear.
She rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth. Travis smelled of sweat and dirt. She wanted to struggle, but knew it was useless.
“It seems that Osvaldo is having trouble with his memory,” Angus replied to Lucy. “I’m trying to help get it in gear again.”
“You’re out of your mind!” Lucy yelled. “He’s just a kid, get that gun off of him!”
Angus completely ignored her. “Osvaldo, do you remember anything now?” he asked coldly.
Osvaldo remained silent, but Lucy could see him trembling with fear. Or was it rage?
Angus stared at him, there seemed to be no soul behind his eyes. “Fine, have it your way,” he said. He pulled the trigger and a deafening boom followed.
“No!” Lucy screamed. She tried to jerk loose, but Travis tightened his arms around her.
Osvaldo let out a howl of sheer agony and charged at the old man. Frank darted between them and firmly planted the butt of his rifle into Osvaldo’s jaw. He tumbled to the ground and crawled to his grandson. When he reached him, he expected to find blood, flesh, and bone. He was pleasantly surprised to find none of that. Armando was face first on the ground. He was sobbing uncontrollably. Angus hadn’t shot the boy, but firing the weapon next to his head had done plenty to get his point across. Lucy breathed a sigh of relief, and then turned her attention back to Angus. The obscenities that spewed from her mouth would make a sailor blush. If Angus heard her, he did a good job of hiding it. He glanced down at Osvaldo again and repeated his question. “Do you remember anything now?”
Osvaldo raised his head, tears flowing down his cheek. He didn’t say a word, only nodded.
Angus allowed an arrogant smile of his own. “That’s better,” he said. He glanced at his watch. “Okay, break time is over. Let’s get moving.”
They all resumed their places in line. Lucy was more than happy to get out of Travis’s grasp.
Angus never wanted things to unfold the way that they did. He didn’t want conflict because he knew that was exactly what Osvaldo wanted. As it turned out, Osvaldo got his conflict anyway. So
much for conflict, he thought. There’s no question about who is in charge now.
***
Annie was distraught when Jonathon and Silas returned to shore. She was so close to escaping the dreadful island and the realization that it wasn’t going to happen was beginning to hit her. Of course, there was concern for Jonathon. She’d seen the explosion on the ship and feared the worst. Jonathon could clearly see relief on her face when she saw him, but her relief turned back into despair just as fast. He told her about Captain Blackstone and Denny, purposely leaving the gruesome parts out. After some time, he managed to calm her down, once again promising her that they would get her off the island alive and as soon as possible. Unfortunately, it was going to be a while longer. Jonathon squinted as he peered up the beach. “We’ve got to make our way back to that shipping container. I got these off of the captain,” he said, dangling the ring of keys in the air. “Surely one of them will fit the lock.”
Silas quickly led the trio back toward the shipping container. Jonathon’s leg throbbed with pain and his gut didn’t feel much better either, but he limped along behind Annie, doing his absolute best to keep pace. Silas sensed his struggling.
“You gonna be alright, champ?” he asked, not looking back.
“Yeah,” he grunted in response. “Don’t slow down for me, I’ll keep up.”
He did, but when they finally arrived at the shipping container, he collapsed on his hands and knees in the sand.
“Oh my gosh,” Annie said, obvious concern in her voice. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Jonathon didn’t answer at first; he was too exhausted to. Silas had just begun
to reach for the lock, but jerked away when he saw Jonathon on the ground. He knelt down beside him, placing a hand on his back.
“You don’t look so good, pal. I don’t think you’re up for this.”
“No, I’m fine,” he snapped back. “I just need to catch my breath.” He regained his footing and snatched the lock from Silas. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”
Silas didn’t believe him, but he didn’t argue either. Jonathon grabbed the lock and began trying different keys. He went through eight of them before he found one that released the shackle. He took the lock off and dropped it in the sand beside him. Silas grabbed the bolt and worked it loose. He swung the large metal door open and gawked at what was inside. It was four all-terrain vehicles, all of them top of the line with plenty of power. They were large enough to easily seat two people and could carry a third if necessary. Each one wore camouflage skin and knobby tires that could probably tear through asphalt. The keys were in all of the ignitions.
Silas whistled. “Ole Angus went all the way with the four-wheelers, didn’t he?”
“I’d say so,” Jonathon agreed, walking toward the impressive machines.
“We should be able to catch up to them in no time with these,” Silas said.
Jonathon shook his head. “Yeah, but we have got to be careful. These things will make a lot of noise which means they’ll draw a lot of curious dinosaurs.”
Annie moved closer, her arms crossed. “But they won’t be able to catch us, right?”
Jonathon looked at her, hearing the constant fear in her voice. “We should be able to outrun anything,” he lied.
Her wide, worried eyes narrowed; the answer seemed to fight off some of the fear.
Jonathon opened the fuel cap and stuck a finger inside the tank.
“Anything?” Silas asked.
“It’s full,” he replied. He wasn’t sure how far a tank of gas would take them, but as he thought of the fuel cans that exploded on the ship, he knew they would have to last. He took a seat on the ATV closest to him and gripped the handlebars. “Okay, here’s the plan,” he said calmly. “We’re going to take the four-wheelers back up the stream where we came down earlier, then—”