Into the Mist

by Lee Murray

  Beside the stream, de Haas stared as the monster advanced on the group at the stream. Even from here Jug could see him recoil. He foundered backward, his mouth open, and dropped the gun.

  At the same time, McKenna rolled, and came up running. In seconds he covered the few steps to Jules and grasped her by the arm, dragging her to her feet to pull her to the cover of the bush.

  “Go, go!” he yelled.

  The creature swung its head to eyeball McKenna. Jug could swear it hesitated. Could it be intelligent enough to recognise the sergeant? Did it know they had some unfinished business? But it was distracted by Foster, who was sploshing along the rocky streambed.

  “Foster! Get out of the way!” Trigger yelled, the rocket launcher jammed hard against his shoulder. “I can’t get off a shot!”

  “Firing,” Read shouted. On one knee, the young soldier lifted his Steyr, sighted the Sphenodon and fired. He fired again. Smoke and noise filled the air. But like before, the bullets pinged off the animal’s hide.

  “Read, save it for the eyes!” shouted Trigger, who was clambering over the rocks with the rocket launcher, trying to get out in front of it so he could blow off its head. “McKenna, Lefty, get the hell out of there!” The beast looked first at Foster, and then at Jules. Jug imagined he saw it make its decision. It slowed and spun, its spiked tail sweeping outwards in counterbalance, nearly knocking Read off his feet. Its gaze fixed on the biologist, it started to run.

  From his hidey hole, Jug watched the party scatter, everyone wanting to get the hell out.

  Chapter 23

  “McKenna! Incoming!” cried Eriksen.

  Taine looked up to see the beast bearing down on them, its burned eye fixed on Jules. He was hit with a sudden sense of déjà vu. The Sphenodon was after her. Again.

  “Jules!” She looked up, her face pale with shock.

  Adrenaline pumping, Taine steeled himself. It couldn’t have her.

  Not on your bloody life.

  Tightening his grip on her hand, Taine half-pulled, half-dragged her, stumbling over the rocks and across the open ground towards the forest.

  “Give them some cover!” Trigger yelled. “Miller, get the fuck over here. Help me load this thing.”

  Jules struggled on the uneven rocks, her stride too short to make the gaps between the boulders. They weren’t going to make it. The creature would overtake them. Kill them.

  Taine used his strength to tow Jules with him, almost lifting her, the momentum carrying her across the cracks.

  His mind raced for a way to drive it off. His men were doing their best, but the Steyrs were no better than pellet guns. Maybe the noise would turn it. And like a cricket ball to the leg, those bullets had to hurt, even if they couldn’t penetrate.

  Taine chanced a backward look. The Sphenodon was closing fast. It lowered his head, maw open, and hissed. The tongue lashed forward. Strings of drool dripped from between razored teeth. At that instant, a long narrow tube rolled in front of the animal’s front talons.

  Smoke grenade. Whoever lobbed it had good aim. Coolie probably. If they could only take advantage of it. He had five seconds at most. Facing the trees, Taine scanned the area in front of them, trying desperately to memorise the rocks that lay ahead. “Jules, don’t let go of my hand,” he said.

  The smoke grenade exploded. Thick white smoke billowed outwards, stinking of burned propellant. Jules hadn’t been expecting it.

  “Taine!” she gasped.

  “Just follow me.”

  But damned if the breeze wasn’t blowing in their faces and, just moments later, the Sphenodon barrelled out of the mist, as if it were stepping from a steamy shower. Double-edged sword was right. The Sphenodon hardly slowed.

  The eyes are sensitive. Go for the eyes.

  The smoke dissipating, Taine pushed Jules ahead of him.

  “Run!”

  “But—”

  “Just go!”

  He concentrated for a few seconds on slowing his heartbeat. Twisted his torso. Fired.

  Like a choreographed fight scene, the Sphenodon swerved. The bullet flew over the creature’s head, barely grazing the spines.

  Fuck.

  It was still coming.

  Taine spun on his heel and sprinted after Jules.

  The sound of the Charlie G exploding warmed him, like the second shot of whisky at a New Year’s party.

  “It’s a hit!” Read yelled, barely audible over the animal’s bellow.

  Finally reaching the trees, Taine turned, expecting to see the creature fall. Instead, it twisted its torso about, and Taine spied the bloody gouge in its flank. The wound was significant, the flesh seared like overdone sirloin. But it wasn’t fatal.

  Taine sagged with disappointment. There was nothing Trigger could’ve done. The creature was facing the other way, so he couldn’t aim for its eyes and mouth. And with the remains of the smoke grenade drifting at him, it was a gutsy call. But the big soldier hadn’t given up. The weapon already reloaded, he fired again, the forest reverberating with the blast. Another chunk of meat was torn from the animal, this time from its shoulder. Wild with fury, the Sphenodon swung its massive head from side to side, looking for the source of its pain.

  Its gaze settled on de Haas.

  The geologist was closest to the animal. He hadn’t moved far from where they’d found him beside the stream.

  “‘De Haas!” Taine shouted. “For god’s sake, man. Run!”

  And de Haas did run, but back towards the monster.

  He was going to retrieve the gun from the stream!

  The Sphenodon hurtled towards de Haas, its head dropped like an armoured front-end loader.

  The grenade launcher primed, Trigger waivered, his face wracked with indecision. If he shot for the creature’s eyes, he might hit de Haas.

  De Haas plunged into the stream. Knee deep in the water, he rummaged amongst the rocks.

  Leave the gun, you fool!

  It was as if de Haas could read Taine’s mind because, contrary as ever, he raised the pistol, water dripping down his arms and, standing like a cowboy in the middle of the stream, squeezed the trigger. Unused to the recoil, the blast forced him to take a step back. Not a bad shot for a civilian, but the bullet missed the animal’s eyes. Instead, it grazed its skull and went wide.

  The Sphenodon tossed its head, its vicious crest of spines slicing through the air. It swung to face de Haas. He shot again. A hit this time, but to the animal’s chest armour. The bullet bounced away. The Sphenodon threw back its head and bellowed.

  Oh shit.

  Enraged and gravely wounded, the animal descended on the geologist, its head lowered. At last, de Haas decided to run. He scrambled away, splashing, his thighs churning through the water. It was too late. The Sphenodon charged, running the geologist through. The spiny crest on its snout pierced the skin under the man’s ribcage near his kidneys, continuing right through to exit his abdomen.

  De Haas could only stare in shock, gaping at the projection emerging from his belly. Jules screamed for him as the creature threw its head back, carrying him into the air.

  * * *

  When the two gun blasts sounded, Jules had reached the treeline. She whipped around.

  Gasped.

  No!

  The Sphenodon had speared de Haas, running him through like a samurai.

  It lifted its snout in the air, de Haas pinioned on the spine. Bellowing, it flung him from side to side. De Haas grasped the spine in his hands, a macabre version of a rider on a mechanical bull. His face was a rictus of agony. Blood trickled from the spike.

  “Taine, my God, he isn’t dead!” Jules cried as the Sphenodon tossed de Haas, sending him flying twenty, thirty metres through the air towards her. There was a cruel thunk as he smashed against a nearby tree trunk. His head lolled, his back surely broken. He flopped to the ground.

  Jules started forward, but Taine, reaching her side, hauled her back – the animal wasn’t finished yet. In a bound, it was there
, standing over its prey, slicing the body apart with its talons. Lazily, the way a cat sharpened its claws on the carpet.

  Jules put her hand to her mouth to hold back her scream, almost fainting when the creature dipped a talon into de Haas’ gut and ripped free a piece of intestine, throwing the viscera on the ground before scooping it up in its jaws.

  Her breath came in short gasps.

  No, no, no.

  Read rushed in, yelling.

  Taine leaped up, waving his rifle. “Read, no!” he shouted. The creature paused, intestine dangling from its jaw. Read jabbed at it with his rifle.

  “Read, what the fuck? Get out of there!” Trigger yelped.

  The Sphenodon hissed. Read jabbed at it again. He danced in and out, stabbing and feinting.

  Oh my god. He’s going to get himself killed.

  The creature stepped over de Haas. It darted towards Read. Hooting, Read turned on his heel and ran. The Sphenodon gave chase. The rocket launcher on his shoulder, Trigger charged after it. Eriksen and Lefty followed suit.

  With the animal gone, Jules burst from the thicket and ran to de Haas. He lay in the scrub, hardly more than a shredded bag of rags. Gently, she turned him over. He was unrecognisable. His face was pulped, a gore of blood and bone. A pink bubble formed where his mouth should have been. And yet his lungs were still working, their laboured sucking more than Jules could bear.

  He’s not dead. How can he not be dead?

  Taine pulled her away. Jules clutched at him, grabbing his arm in both hands. A muscle in his jaw twitched. He raised his other hand, cocked his pistol, and shot de Haas in the head.

  Jules closed her eyes. As the boom faded, Eriksen’s voice carried through the trees.

  “Go, go, go! It’s coming back!”

  It hasn’t finished its meal.

  Taine grabbed her by the hand, and they ran.

  * * *

  Hamish laughed wildly, dashing down the gully, slipping and skidding in the greasy clay. He scrambled over a tree trunk and slid down a bank into a ditch, dropping his gun. He got up, and was bending to retrieve his gun when someone called his name.

  “Miller! Over here!”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Up here. It’s me, Jug.”

  Hamish swivelled. Jug was peering down at him from behind a clump of flax at the top of the gully. “Hey there, Jug!” Hamish giggled. “What are you doing hiding up there?”

  “Shhh!” Jug whispered, checking all around him. “The Sphenodon!”

  “Yeah,” Hamish said, scrambling back up the slope to Jug. “The Sphenodon. Did you see it kill de Haas?” He shook his head gravely. “That was bloody nasty. But it’s okay because I’m going to get it – me and not Read, okay? – and when I do, they’re going to give me a medal.”

  Jugs eyes narrowed. He took a step out of the flax. “Miller, are you okay?”

  “Sure! I’m great.” Hamish put his hand to his face, talking from behind it like he was sharing his secret. “I’m going to kill the monster before Read. Afterwards, they’re going to give me a medal.”

  “What’s this about Read?”

  “Yeah, I don’t mind telling you, Jug, because you’re a friend, but Read, he’s just a goodie good, isn’t he? A goodie-goodie-good. Makes you sick. Everyone’s darling. I used to tell him things, but now I don’t. Except when they give me the medal. I’ll tell him when they give me the medal.”

  “What medal is that, then?” said Jug, taking another step out of the clump of flax.

  “The fucking medal from the fucking government, that’s what!” He giggled again. “The word government is funny, don’t you think? Govern-ment. Hear that? Govern-ment.” He collapsed into laughter.

  “Shhh, Hamish, not so loud.” Reaching out a hand, Jug placed it firmly on Hamish’s wrist. “You know, we should really hide,” he said conspiratorially, but Hamish knew what he was up to. He was trying to do that doctor-thing and take his pulse. Fucking sneak.

  Hamish snatched his hand away. “Don’t touch me, you wanker. I didn’t give you permission to do experiments on me. And don’t tell me what to do either.”

  “Hamish, what have you taken? Was it a pill? Did you smoke something?”

  “Me? No. I’m fine. I’m great. But I have to go and look for that Sphenodon. Otherwise, they’re going to give the medal to Read. I can’t wait to see the look on my parents’ faces when I get that medal.”

  “Hamish, it’s too risky. I really think we should hide,” Jug said carefully.

  Hamish sniggered. Jug’s such a scaredy cat. Hamish wasn’t afraid of the Sphenodon. There was no need to be afraid if you were the one attacking. That’s why they were in this mess. McKenna’d been reacting. He was a decent guy and all that, but he wasn’t proactive, was he? Reacting when he should have been attacking. Everyone knew the best form of defence was attack. Even the Sphenodon knew it – attacking them all the time.

  Jug’s voice came to Hamish, telling him they’d better keep quiet and hide, but he just didn’t get it, did he? If you were going to win a battle and get yourself a medal, then you couldn’t be hiding out in a hidey-hole. And since no one else understood that, he’d have to do it. But that was okay, because he’d never felt so alive. He was totally pumped.

  “Jug,” he said, pushing Jug back into the bush. “You stay here. I’m going to find the Sphenodon. I’ll come back for you when I’ve killed it.”

  Turning, Hamish skidded down the gully, gripping his gun as he slid, so he didn’t lose it a second time.

  Jug shouted from up the top.

  Hamish swivelled.

  What? The Sphenodon? Up there with Jug? He scrambled back up the bank, feet slipping in the clay, his eyes blurring with sweat, and stood panting at the top. The flax moved, the grey-green spears fluttering. That Sphenodon was a canny bastard. It was in there with Jug. Hamish was sure of it. He could see the swish of the tail, the crest of spines visible over the top of the flax. He lifted the Steyr, painting the target with the IRAD on the side of the rifle.

  “No!” Jug said, and Hamish glimpsed his face etched with worry.

  “Don’t worry, Jug. I’m going to save you,” he whispered.

  Read or Trigger, they wouldn’t dare take this shot. They’d be worried about hitting Jug. But Hamish backed himself. In situations like these, you had to have confidence. If you faltered, you failed. He checked the sight. Breathed deeply.

  “No!” Jug yelled.

  Hamish would have liked a clearer shot, but there was no time. The monster was going to kill Jug.

  He fired.

  * * *

  Jug dived out of the flax, a burst of pain exploding at his side. He cried out, his arms wind-milling, and tumbled down the gully. Coming down heavily, his leg twisted beneath him.

  Jug shrieked.

  The pain was raw, threatening to overwhelm him. He fought to draw breath, gripped at the earth, his knuckles taut. Forced himself to breathe deeply. Again. His head spun. Another breath. Jug patted his side. His hand came away wet. The bullet had grazed his side just under his ribs. Miller had shot him! Fired on him. Jug patted again, finding the edges of the wound. It hurt to breathe, but it wasn’t deep, thank God. Miller had been too high to aim straight and Jug, forewarned, had leapt a split second before he’d fired. That split second may have saved his life.

  For now.

  A wave of pain made him draw in a shallow breath. Jug waited for it to pass, then looked down the length of his body, seeing the gleam of white bone against his ebony skin. His lower leg was twisted at an odd angle. His tibia, fractured. Jug broke into a cold sweat. Shivered. Not that. Not out here. He wouldn’t be able to walk, let alone run.

  He tried to sit up to examine his leg, but he didn’t even get his elbow under him before the pain beat him back. His medical bag! It was at the top of the gully. As he took in the ramifications, his body started to shake uncontrollably. Shock.

  Then he heard that tell-tale hiss as the ground beneath him tremb
led.

  Jug fainted.

  * * *

  They gathered back by the stream. It was logical. It was what parents always told their children: ‘Stay where you are, don’t wander off, or you’ll end up even more lost.’

  Taine watched as Richard Foster crept out of the trees to stand beside Jules. Taine hoped the idiot realised what he’d done. He’d only gone and got de Haas killed with his stupid scheme to save the Sphenodon. Taine hadn’t liked the man, but it didn’t mean he deserved to die. And not like that.

  Turning away, Taine spied de Haas’ geologist’s pick lodged in the stream. He scooped it up and shook it off, fastening it on his pack.

  “So, are we all here?” he asked.

  He scanned their faces: Read, Miller, Eriksen, Lefty… Jug and Coolie weren’t back yet.

  Taine shivered. “Anyone seen Jug or Coolie?”

  “Last I saw of Coolie he was on the trail just before we found the scientists,” said Eriksen. Richard dropped his head, his hair flopping forward to hide his face.

  “When exactly?”

  “He was just behind me at the campsite.”

  “Anyone see Coolie at the stream?” Taine demanded. No one replied. Catching Taine’s eye, Trigger shook his head.

  No. Not Coolie too. Taine bunched his fists. “What about Jug? Anyone see what happened to him?”

  “He was at the stream. I saw him jump out of the way when the Sphenodon came charging through the trees,” Lefty said, pointing towards the treeline. “He ducked behind that log.”

  “Well, he’s not there now, is he?” Eriksen whispered.

  There was a hush. Jules’ forehead creased, her breath catching. “Poor Jug,” she murmured sadly.

  “Coolie’s a good soldier. He knows how to look after himself. If he’s out there, he’ll find us,” Trigger said encouragingly. “Could be he’s just being cautious.”

  Taine acknowledged the comment with a curt nod, although they both knew Coolie’s chances were crap. Together they’d faced some ruthless enemies, but nothing like this. Silent and stealthy, the Sphenodon was like a sniper, biding its time, waiting for them to be exposed, and then picking them off.