“Alright,” said Mason, “let’s look for some bark, dry grass, and a stick.”
“That’s the easy part,” Eaver replied. “But I’m afraid it’s all gonna be too wet.”
Mason was thinking the same thing, but he was going to try nonetheless. He rummaged through the neighboring grass until he found a suitable slab of bark. It was soaked, worthless. Eaver was right; they could not get the friction needed to make a spark on the soggy wood. But if the bark dried out, it would make a perfect fireboard. Mason scored it down the middle with another piece of wood, creating a groove. Then he brought it to the sand and laid it in the sunlight.
“You’re right, way too wet,” he stated. “We’ll set it under the hot sun so it dries out.” He pulled a short, straight stick from the firewood pile and tossed it next to the bark for later. “Okay,” he said, hands on his hips. “I guess now we just have to wait.”
Eaver scanned the surrounding area. Her eyes stopped at the hole in the rock that their explosives had created. She kept her cautious gaze on the fissure, making sure nothing was coming out to accompany them.
“God, we need to get out of here,” muttered Eaver. She felt extremely vulnerable, and not being able to light a signal fire magnified that feeling of dread and panic. “We’ve got to find a way, Mason.”
“We’re trying, sweetie,” Mason reassured. “We’ll get a fire going eventually.”
She feared that would take too long. “Isn’t there any way we could build a raft?”
“I don’t see how. We have no tools to cut wood with, and nothing strong enough to bind the wood together even if we could cut it. I can’t believe I left my fucking pocket knife at home.”
“Maybe we can see if some rope or anything has washed up from the boat.”
Mason shrugged. “We could. Although I think if anything was floating our way, we would’ve seen it yesterday. Especially when we were swimming out there.”
“I don’t care,” said Eaver, “we need to look again.” There was desperation in her voice.
Mason was not going to disagree. “Okay.”
She shuddered. “Those things are gonna get us. We have to get off this island, Mason. I can’t take this.”
He draped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. “I know, I know. We’ll go take a look around the shore. And then we’ll come back to see if the wood’s dry enough to get the signal fire going. Alright?”
“Alright.”
The couple began their search along the shoreline. Since the boat exploded in the waters west of the island, that was the side they needed to explore. There was no point looking on the eastern shore, as the currents would not have carried any flotsam around the island and deposited it on the other side.
The midmorning sun rose higher in the sky, heating the entire island. Mason and Eaver felt beads of sweat rolling down their skin while they foraged through the shoreline foliage. As they moved south, the vegetation thickened enough to make them take to the water to continue their search. They waded in the rolling waves until they realized nothing from the boat had found its way to shore. Defeated, they headed back toward their beach.
The wood had dried quickly in the hot sun. Pleased to discover this, Mason prepared to make his fire. He made a grid in the bottom of the damp sand pit with some of the wood from the pile. Next, he sat down with the bark fireboard and the short stick.
“Get me some dead grass to light,” said Mason. “The drier the better.”
Eaver went to the high grass at the edge of the beach. She plucked yellow tips from the strands until she had a sturdy handful. Then she brought it to Mason.
“Perfect, thank you,” he said, taking the tinder from her hand. He set the nest of grass on the bark, at the end of the groove. Taking a deep breath, he began to work the stick feverishly up and down the carved groove. After several minutes of exertion, tiny embers were created and flung into the small nest. Mason gently blew on the embers until they ignited the grass.
The sight of flame made Eaver smile. “Thank God,” she said, feeling a sudden burst of relief. Not only would they be able to build a new signal fire, but they would also be able to cook anything they decided to catch and eat. Eaver felt a little better about their situation.
Mason brought the burning tinder to the pit and placed it atop the layer of firewood. He quickly gathered more grass and small twigs, adding them to the flames. The fire gained strength, and Mason laid a couple of thick branches on top. Heavy smoke was soon billowing into the morning air.
“That’s more like it,” beamed Mason. He proudly watched while the pillar of smoke reach for the heavens. “Please, God, let somebody notice.”
“What now?” asked Eaver. “Should we figure out what we’re gonna do tonight if no one comes before then?”
“That would be wise,” Mason admitted. He pondered their options. “The mountainside is not a safe place, so that’s out. Same with the beach, even with the fire. Those things aren’t afraid of the fire enough to keep them away. In the trees is the only place we have a chance in.”
Eaver rolled her eyes in disgust. “Hate those damn trees,” she hissed, her muscles tensing at the mere thought of spending another night clinging to a hard tree. She shook her head, her gaze drooping down to the sand.
“And maybe we can make some kind of defenses,” said Mason.
“Like what? More spears?”
“Yeah, that’s about all we’ve got to work with. We could plant a bunch of spears around a tree.”
Eaver looked up at him. “That might help.”
“I still can’t believe I didn’t bring my pocket knife with me when we left the house.”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” she said. “It’s not like you could’ve imagined something like this would happen.”
“I know, it just sucks.” He sighed. “We’ll just have to do what we can. Like when we break branches, I guess, bend ‘em back so we get a longer, sharper split.”
“I wonder if we should look around some more to see if there’s a better spot on the island. You know, like something more protected.”
“Good idea,” Mason agreed. But searching the entire island might take all day, which would not leave them any time to set up a defensive perimeter. He turned his eyes to the lone, rocky peak next to them. “We need to get up high and overlook the island. Then we’ll be able to see what area looks the best.”
“We better find a good one,” said Eaver. “Otherwise we won’t last another night.”
“Come on,” he urged, trying to keep her spirit alive. “Let’s go up the hillside and get a look at the whole island. We’re gonna find the best spot to set up.”
CHAPTER 18
Denise Baddington lifted her eyes from the microscope and rubbed them. They were dry and irritated, which made it harder to focus. She stepped away from the microscope and crossed the lab to get to her purse.
While she was digging for the bottle of eye drops, the hospital phone on the desk rang. The caller ID read, US DEPT INTERIOR. Realizing her current employer was calling, she picked up.
“This is Denise Baddington,” she announced.
“Hello, Miss Baddington,” a female voice replied. “This is Gina Taylor from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Services.”
“Yes, hello Gina.”
“I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news. I’m calling to inform you that funding is going to be cut for your assignment.”
“What?” Denise thought she had just heard wrong.
“Due to lack of conclusive results, and quite frankly, the lack of public interest, the director has decided to pull the plug.”
Denise was flabbergasted. “You’ve got to be kidding! This is the single most amazing biological discovery of the century. How can you want to mothball it?”
“It’s not my decision, of course,” the woman said politely. “But I do have to inform you that you will only remain on our payroll until the end of the month. By then you will need to be out of t
he residence we’re housing you in, so the department can sell the property.”
“Unbelievable…”
“I’m sorry, Miss Baddington. You have until the end of the month.”
Denise hung up, landing the handset on the base a little harder than she wanted to. She ran rigid fingers back through her long, black hair. Closing her eyelids, she exhaled forcefully. “Shit!” she finally erupted.
How could they want to end the program? she marveled, still reeling from the phone call. This is too important. Somehow, I have to continue my research. She wondered if she could find a way to raise funds herself. But then she realized that if the public interest had receded, then getting them to donate money to further her research would be almost impossible.
Maybe if she could solve the mystery of how the creatures came to be, the director would change his mind. Well, I’ve got ‘til the end of the month to produce results, she mused. I’d better make it count.
“Who was that?”
Hearing the familiar voice of John Warden, Denise turned to face the doctor. “That was Fish and Wildlife,” she answered. “They actually said they’re folding tents and ending the project. I have to be out of the house by the end of the month.”
Dr. Warden was stunned. “You’re kidding.” The chief physician of Sweetboro Medical Center could only shake his head. “That’s the federal government for you. Wasting tax dollars on bullshit and cutting programs that actually matter.” He, like everyone else in town, wanted very much to learn what these deadly new creatures were and where they had come from.
Denise approached the doctor. “What am I going to do?” she griped. “I can’t quit now, giving up is not in my nature.”
Dr. Warden smirked. “I know.” He and Denise had played the cat-and-mouse game months before, with Denise almost successful in seducing the doctor. He was married to a wife of fifteen years, however, and despite Denise’s attractiveness – and his own occasional fantasies – he determined a late night fling was not worth destroying his marriage. The doctor had a heart-to-heart talk with Denise, explaining how much he loved his wife and how Denise needed to respect that. Since then their relationship at the hospital remained purely professional, and they were good with each other.
“I don’t know what else to try,” Denise admitted. “I’ve sent samples to all the labs I can think of, but none of them have provided any answers. We’ve got to figure these creatures out. And quickly.”
“Why don’t you go talk to the sheriff?” suggested Dr. Warden. “I know he’s already told you pretty much everything he knows about the animals, but maybe he can help you brainstorm. You never know.”
She sighed. “I suppose. I just talked to him last week, and he couldn’t think of anything we might be overlooking.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to try again,” the doctor said. “After all, that young man has seen more of those things than anybody else in town. Anybody who’s still alive to tell about it, anyway.”
“Okay,” said Denise. “I could use a little fresh air right now anyway.” Taking a break away from the hospital might help her calm down from the unsettling phone call.
The heat of summer hit her when she stepped outside. It was notably hot today, but in a way, it comforted her. Being warmed by the sun’s rays soothed her a bit. It was nature’s way of telling her not to let her work consume her world.
She started her car and drove to the police station. Parking at the curb, she exited the vehicle and walked to the front entrance. She opened the glass doors and saw old Lewis Simkins manning the desk inside. The deputy was on the phone, clearly discontented about something.
“I know you’re not supposed to be in today, that’s why I’m calling you,” Lewis said, wagging his finger in the air at the young man who was not there to see it. “So get your skinny butt in here. …‘Cause I wanna go home and get some sleep, that’s what the rush is! …Alright, Demarcus, I’ll see you in a few.”
The deputy hung up the phone and greeted Denise with a friendly grin. “Good mornin’, Miss Denise. What can I do for you today?”
“Hello, Lewis,” she said with an equally cordial smile. “I just popped in to see Sheriff Parker for a few minutes. I need to talk to him.”
“Me too,” Lewis replied, furrowing his brow. “The sheriff was supposed to be in hours ago. I’ve been callin’ him all morning, and Miss Eaver too. Can’t get hold of either of ‘em.”
“That’s odd.”
“It’s not like him,” the deputy remarked. “Not like him at all. I had to call Demarcus in just now to take over for me instead.”
“I hope nothing’s happened to him.”
Lewis noted the concern on Denise’s face and tried to snuff her worry. “Come on, now,” he said, “I’m sure he’s just fine. Just not with his phone. But I’ve left messages for him and Eaver to call back. And lookie here,” he continued, rolling his chair across the floor to a table behind him. He placed his hand on a black electronic device. “We’ve got the shortwave radio on as well.”
Denise looked closer, noticing the display was dark and dormant. “Are you sure?” she said, squinting. “Looks like it’s off to me.”
Lewis glanced at the display and frowned. “Dang it, sometimes it just shuts off. We think there’s a short circuit inside somewhere.” He pulled the power cord from the outlet, waited a few seconds, and then plugged it back in. The face of the radio lit up, showing it was ready for business. “There ya go.” He patted the receiver lightly.
Denise looked skeptical. “You might want to get a new radio, you know.”
Lewis chuckled, forming wrinkles on his cheeks. “Truth, Miss. It’s old family, this radio, but it still works. So between the phones and the radio, somehow we’ll get in contact with the sheriff.”
“Okay,” she smiled. “Thank you, Deputy. I just worry that people are in trouble when they can’t be reached.”
“Don’t worry, Miss Denise,” the old officer assured, “I’ll make sure me and my partners keep an ear on that radio.”
CHAPTER 19
Mason and Eaver sat on the rocks near the top of the mount. They had a bird’s-eye view of the entire island below. Though half a mile long, it looked smaller than that from up there.
The slow climb had been a little nerve-wracking. Especially since the monsters’ lair was directly beneath them. The couple had kept quiet on the way up, mindful not to make any noise that could alert the creatures to their presence. They had taken their time climbing. It was crucial for them to be careful enough that they would not slip, tumble, or dislodge any rock that could noisily bound down the slope.
Mason was thankful that they had not seen any pieces of Mitch’s corpse on the hillside. At least the creatures had taken every bit of their prey below ground. Mason had hoped to find the dead body of the beast he stabbed last night, but had no such luck. The injured creature must have retreated to the cavern.
It had taken the couple over thirty minutes to cautiously make their way to the top, but now they were there. And their view of the island made the nervous ascent worthwhile. They were able to survey the whole island.
“How about over there?” asked Eaver, pointing to a new spot. “Right next to the water.”
“I don’t know,” Mason said cagily. “They could just as easily come at us from the water. We’d have no safe side.”
“Well dammit, I don’t know.” Eaver’s frustration was growing by the minute. They had contemplated half a dozen areas to build their camp, but none of them really stood out. It seemed their chances were going to be the same no matter where they decided to settle in.
“Maybe we’re overthinking this,” shrugged Mason. “Maybe any place we set up will have the same vulnerabilities. At this point we can just pick any random spot down there.”
A breeze kicked in from the east, and they could hear it whooshing through the trees below. The treetops and branches blew westward in unison. From that distance it looked like a choreographed show to Mason
and Eaver.
Then Mason noticed something. The ocean bluster displaced enough of the trees to reveal a flash of white on the southeast coast. “What’s that?” he slurred.
Eaver followed his eyes and saw the tiny, bright speck tucked against the coastline. It was white and shiny, vividly reflecting the sun’s rays.
“I don’t know. What do you think it is?” she asked.
Mason focused as hard as he could. “I’m not sure. But it definitely looks like something man-made.”
Eaver nodded. “It sure does.” She wondered what could be down there at the edge of the water “Think maybe it’s a boat?”
Mason smiled. “Could be.”
“Maybe it’s another old relic from World War II.”
“Or maybe,” said Mason, his voice stout with hope, “it’s somebody who decided to come to the island to do some secluded fishing.”
Eaver fed off his energy. “Only one way to find out,” she brimmed. “Let’s get our asses down there and check it out!”
They carefully began down the craggy slope. The excitement of possibly seeing a boat drove them to hurry, but they knew they had to be cautious negotiating their way to the bottom. Finally, they reached the base of the mount and rushed to the beach. Not stopping there, they continued their journey into the woods.
The pair trotted through the trees, weaving in the direction of their goal. “It’s that way,” stated Eaver, pointing to the southeast to keep them on target.
The heat of the sun and the humidity of the wetlands pressed down on them. They slowed their pace, feeling the fatigue taking over. It took half an hour for the couple to work through the wetlands and arrive at the far corner of the island.
As they emerged from the foliage, they were greeted by the sight of a large, white boat resting against the shore. They laughed out loud in elation.
“Yes!” exclaimed Mason, smiling so wide that his sunburned face hurt.
“Oh thank God,” Eaver seconded. “Thank God.”
They approached the vessel, which was a sizable cruising trawler. How it got there was a mystery, but that hardly mattered. What was important was that it was there and Mason and Eaver found it. As they walked around to the stern, Mason saw the name Charlie’s Angel painted on the transom. The name was familiar. After a few seconds he remembered where he had heard it before.
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