by C. G. Mosley
Matt opened his mouth for a rebuttal but thought better of it. Instead, he let out an exasperated grunt and stormed out of the room.
Charlie’s eyes followed him and once he was gone, she returned her attention to Hardcastle. “So, what are we going to do about the fence?”
Hardcastle returned his hat to the top of his head and rubbed at his eyes. He was tired and badly needed sleep. “How much time before the hurricane makes landfall?” he asked, stifling a yawn.
Charlie paused and glanced down at her watch. “The news says we’ve got approximately eight hours,” she answered. “That puts it us right in the middle of the night.”
Hardcastle sighed and shook his head. He had not been very concerned about the hurricane, but that was before the Spinosaurus had wrecked the fencing. He bit his lip and thought for a long moment trying to put some sort of plan of action together in his head. Unfortunately, exhaustion seemed to be affecting his thinking. With his shoulders slumped, he finally strolled over to the kitchen sink and began splashing cold water on his face.
“Well?” Charlie asked anxiously. “What are we going to do?”
Hardcastle turned the faucet off and raised his head to look at her. There was water dripping off his chin, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“There isn’t any time to do anything,” he replied. “We’ve only got a few more hours of daylight left and considering it’s just you, George, that coward partner of yours, and myself…well, unfortunately, we just don’t have the manpower to make the necessary repairs.”
It wasn’t the answer Charlie wanted to hear.
“So you’re telling me that not only do we have to ride out a category five hurricane,” she began, her voice rising.
“It probably won’t even be that when it makes landfall,” Hardcastle interrupted.
Charlie rolled her eyes and continued. “So not only do we have to deal with the hurricane, we’ve also got to deal with the vulnerable position that damaged fence puts us in. A raptor will have no problem getting through that opening, do you realize that?”
Hardcastle took a deep breath and shot her a cold look. “Of course I know that,” he growled loudly. “But just what would you have me do about it? If you’ve got an idea, I’m all ears!”
Charlie felt her blood pressure rise as she did not react well to people yelling at her. She opened her mouth to give him a real piece of her mind when suddenly she had an idea. Instead of yelling back at him, she smiled.
Hardcastle was unsure of how to respond. “What?” he asked, dumbfounded by her strange reaction.
“I think I have an idea,” she replied, and she quickly strolled past him toward the exit. “Follow me, we don’t have a lot of time.”
***
“So do you think it’ll hit the island?” Lucy asked as she and Jonathon watched the evening news report on the progression of Hurricane Simon.
“I don’t know,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “The experts sure seem to think so…I hope not.”
“Well, that island has been around at least for 65 million years,” Lucy said with a nervous laugh. “Surely it has had its share of hurricanes over the years. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
Jonathon did not reply; he just continued to stare at the television as a graphic appeared on screen showing the multiple projected paths the hurricane could take. The most likely one looked as if it would be a direct hit on the island. Lucy watched how intensely he was staring at the television and suddenly it became quite apparent to her what he was most concerned about. It wasn’t the dinosaurs, although that was definitely a concern. What she felt concerned him most was the people that were working on the island. Lucy knew there were individuals that Jonathon had met on his last visit to the island that were persuaded to work there by Mr. Cold.
“Surely they evacuated,” she told him softly, resting her hand on his forearm.
He looked over at her and smiled nervously. “I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “Knowing Cold, that place is important enough for him to talk some of them into staying behind to look after things and ride out the storm.”
Lucy shook her head dismissively. “Surely not,” she said.
Jonathon raised his eyebrows slightly and continued to stare at the television.
“Well, even if they do stay—which they probably won’t—but if they did, I’m sure there has got to be a safe building there to ride things out,” she said, trying to reassure him.
Jonathon thought back to the buildings that Eric Gill had built. He thought that perhaps the Triangle building would be a safe place to get. The unique architectural design had to have some sort of purpose; maybe that was it. Jonathon pondered the compound a bit more and as he thought about it, what seemed to trouble him most was not the design of the buildings, but their close proximity to the beach. If the storm was intense enough—and a category five was as bad as it got—then a storm surge could be a real possibility. He remembered how devastating the storm surge had been on the Mississippi gulf coast during Hurricane Camille back in the sixties. Camille had been a category five as well and he distinctly remembered hearing that the storm surge had peaked at twenty-four feet. Jonathon remembered visiting the gulf coast as a child and seeing a large post planted on the beach with a blue line painted on it to mark just how deep the water had gotten. It had been quite a bit over his head.
“Are you alright?” Lucy asked. She could clearly see he was deep in thought.
“Yeah, I’m alright,” he replied, smiling at her. “There’s no sense in worrying about it. All I can do is hope and pray they took the proper precautions.”
“I’m sure they did,” she replied. “If there is even anyone on the island.”
Jonathon nodded, and then stood from the comfortable sofa. It was making him sleepy. He was about to head to the kitchen for a snack when he heard the weatherman continue to offer a doomsday description of Hurricane Simon. He made it sound awfully dangerous.
Surely there is no way Cold left them on that island, he thought.
As he strolled into the kitchen, he finally allowed himself to dismiss the possibility. There’s just no way…
***
“So do you really think it was an earthquake?” Charlie asked as she led Hardcastle into the hangar.
“Don’t know,” he replied, shrugging. “I don’t know what else it could’ve been. There isn’t a dinosaur on the island that can shake the ground like that.” He paused at the entrance to the hangar. “Alright, you got me out here, now what’s this bright idea you’ve got?”
Charlie did not stop walking and did not look back. “This is my idea,” she answered, waving her hand toward the large semi that was parked against the interior wall of the hanger.
The large truck and flatbed trailer immediately reminded him of the Sarcosuchus he and Eric Gill had tried—and ultimately succeeded in—removing from the island. In hindsight, he was almost ashamed of his behavior back then…almost. Money talked and he was glad to listen when it did.
“Okay, I’m listening,” he said as he leaned against the large metal door.
“Do you think it’ll still start? I haven’t seen this thing run since…well, you remember,” she said, her voice trailing off.
There was an awkward silence.
Hardcastle took a deep breath through his nose and allowed his eyes to drift toward the high metal ceiling. “Yeah, I remember,” he replied flatly. After another long moment of silence, he added, “Look, I don’t suppose we’ve ever talked a lot about all of that stuff.”
Charlie raised her eyebrows and looked back at him. She then rested her back against the front grill of the semi and crossed her arms. “There’s nothing to talk about,” she replied. “That was over two years ago and Jonathon Williams seemed to think you were more on our side that we initially thought.”
Hardcastle laughed. “He said that, did he?”
Charlie nodded.
Glenn Hardcastle rubbed the stubble on his jaw and after a couple of m
oments, he approached her. “Honey, whatever Jonathon told you about me was a complete lie. I was on my own side then just as I am now.”
A slow smile crept across his face that reminded Charlie of the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. She shifted her weight and felt an uneasiness come over her that she could not explain. “I don’t believe that,” she said softly as he placed a hand on the hood of the truck several inches above her head.
“And why is that?” he asked, leaning over close to her face.
“Because,” she replied, locking her eyes with his. “You’re here now…on our side.”
“I see,” he replied just above a whisper. “And what exactly makes you think we’re on the right side? I mean, after all, our white knight Jonathon is nowhere to be found on this island.” He inched his face closer to hers.
Charlie narrowed her eyes and dodged his advance just in the nick of time. “So what I’m thinking,” she said, returning her attention to the semi, “is we load a couple of the old Gill Enterprises jeeps on the back of the trailer and then we park it against the fence to reinforce the damage.”
She walked away from Hardcastle and though he was annoyed by the way she’d avoided him, he did his best not to show it.
“This truck and those jeeps still have some value and use here,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
She stopped and spun on her heel to face him. She brushed her blonde bangs out of her face and said, “I think our lives have more value than these vehicles,” a flare of anger in her tone.
Hardcastle took a long look at the semi and then the jeeps. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, it was a pretty good idea and it was probably enough to hold the fence together until the hurricane blew over.
“Alright,” he said finally. “I suppose it’ll have to do until we get more manpower back on the island to make the appropriate repairs. If we strap the jeeps down, I figure the weight of them plus the trailer and truck should be enough to hold the Spinosaurus and any tyrannosaurs out.”
“Good,” Charlie replied. “Well, get to it then.”
Hardcastle could only watch as she quickly scurried out of the hangar. He’d noticed that she’d become more and more uncomfortable when he was alone with her. He smiled as he sensed what was going on and then tried to force it out of his head. There was work to do and little time to get it done. A strong gust of wind suddenly blew through the compound and Hardcastle could see the tropical trees bend in protest outside the hangar. Hurricane Simon would be making his appearance in short time. Hardcastle adjusted his hat and then climbed aboard the large semi to see if it would start.
Chapter 7
10:23 p.m.
Hurricane Simon arrived and immediately made its presence known by ripping the entire roof off the hangar. Charlie, Hardcastle, Matt, and George did not witness the spectacular occurrence, but they all heard it. The sound was eerily like a crack of thunder, followed by a sickening wail of what undoubtedly was twisting metal. Upon hearing it, Hardcastle rushed toward an outside window to investigate just in time to see the remnants of the roof disappearing somewhere beyond the dense jungle canopy toward the jungle interior.
They were all hunkered down in an office on the first level. There had been a debate about where they should ride the storm out, but Matt had decided if something happened and they needed to make a quick escape, it would be best to be on the ground floor. Hardcastle disagreed and voiced his concerns about a possible storm surge that could fill the first floor with water. Despite his pleas, no one seemed to give his concerns a lot of consideration except for Charlie. In an attempt to mediate the growing tension between Matt and Hardcastle, she tried to take charge and made the decision that they should stay on the lower level unless water began to enter the building. Hardcastle appreciated what she was doing and didn’t debate the matter any further.
“What about the Troodons?” Charlie asked just as the western wall of the hangar blew away.
“What about them?” Hardcastle asked. “They’re in the paddock. If the paddock goes down, they’re free and will no doubt disappear into the jungle.”
Charlie frowned and placed her hands on her hips. “And all of the past two years of research we’ve been doing will be for nothing.”
Matt walked alongside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “No, I’m sure if they get loose, we’ll be able to track them back down,” he said. “I mean, it’s not like there are a lot of places to hide here.”
He had removed his lab coat and was now wearing a plaid shirt and slacks. His dark hair was combed in such a way that reminded Hardcastle of a Ken doll. Glenn had also noticed that the man’s hands were manicured and appeared to be just as smooth as Charlie’s. Matt Walker was not the sort of man he’d want to be caught in a foxhole with.
The wind suddenly howled loudly and they could hear the entire building vibrating.
“What do we do if the building goes down?” Charlie asked, unable to hide the fear in her voice.
“The building will hold,” Hardcastle reassured her. “I was here for its construction and I can assure you that it was built right. On the other hand, the buildings that Eric Gill built for were constructed by men that cut plenty of corners to keep the cost down. It’s not a surprise to me that the hangar went down.”
Charlie nodded slowly and Glenn could see in her eyes that what he said comforted her a bit. George seemed to go with the flow and as usual, said little. He was clearly comfortable and unfazed by the furious wind outside. Matt seemed to become more antsy by the minute.
“I still think we should discuss what to do if this building goes down,” he stammered. He was looking at the walls around him as he spoke.
Hardcastle rolled his eyes and huffed. “The building is not going to fall down,” he grumbled.
The lights suddenly flickered. Charlie shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
“If the power goes down, me and George are ready,” Hardcastle said, holding up a large flashlight. “Just relax; everything is going to be fine.”
She smiled at him, but it was obviously forced. “I’m trying to relax,” she said. “A nice glass of wine would really help the cause.”
“Well if you’d have taken my suggestion about us staying on a higher floor, we’d be near the rec room where I know factually there is some wine,” Hardcastle teased in response. “That wind out there isn’t letting up…I’m telling you that within in the next hour, we’re going to start dealing with water.”
“Well, we’ll cross that bridge when and if we come to it,” Matt said. “I don’t want to be on a higher floor if this building begins to come apart,” he added. His eyes were still darting around in all directions. It was as if he was desperately searching for some sort of crack in the wall that would reinforce his theory.
“I see, so you’d rather be on the bottom floor when the building collapses,” Hardcastle rebutted. “You’d be okay with being buried alive?”
Matt shot him a cold glare as another huge gust of wind pounded the building. The lights flickered again—more this time.
“I think I’m going to take a step outside to get a better feel for what this wind is doing,” Hardcastle said as he approached the door. He grabbed a raincoat and put it on.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Matt asked, chasing after him.
“I’ll only be a minute,” Hardcastle replied without halting or looking back.
He quickly made his way to the double glass doors at the entrance of the building. The glass rattled with the wind as if it were warning him to stay inside. As he stepped into the windy, damp air, he immediately put a hand over his head to hold his hat in place. He noticed that the wind was becoming much more sustained and was getting stronger too. He estimated the winds were currently somewhere in the neighborhood of 80 miles per hour, which meant they weren’t even close to seeing the worst of the storm yet. While he was still able to walk without getting blown away, he decided to check on the damaged fencing and the semi
that he’d parked in front of it.
In the short time it took him to jog around to the rear of the building, he could already feel the wind speed increasing even more. He figured he only had a few minutes before walking around outside would be impossible. As he squinted, trying to get a good look at the mangled fencing, a large palm frond swept by him, narrowly missing his face. It served as a reminder that there would be other, larger debris that could potentially come from seemingly anywhere and knock him unconscious, or even potentially kill him. Satisfied that the fencing was still intact, though he wasn’t sure for how long, Hardcastle turned to head back toward the entrance, the wind at his back.
As he drew near the building, he kept a hand on the brick wall, desperately searching for anything he could grip to keep him upright. Suddenly, he heard a strange sound echoing from behind him. He turned and realized it was coming from the Troodon paddock. He could just make out the five of them, with the large female in the center, staring at him from behind the fence. They seemed to be barking at him and he swore it looked and sounded as if they were trying to speak to him.
Were they pleading for help? he wondered. Are they warning me about something?
The sight of the Troodons glaring at him, along with the strange guttural noises they were making at him, was unnerving and he found himself moving even more quickly back toward the entrance. As he trudged along, he continued to hear the animals doing their best to speak to him, though he had absolutely no idea what they were trying to say.
Just as he grabbed the handle to reenter the building, another gust of wind, the strongest yet, rolled across the compound. Hardcastle watched in amazement as the air picked up an aluminum boat that had been turned upside down near the back gate. The boat was tossed high in the air—probably twenty feet—and it too disappeared somewhere beyond the canopy of the jungle just as the roof of the hangar had done. It was at that moment that the compound went completely dark. The power had finally gone out.