Mega 4: Behemoth Island (2 page)

Dr. Chen made a choice. He stripped off the long-sleeve shirt that was tattered and torn and wrapped it around his head and face, leaving space for him to breathe and see, but for nothing else. He checked the pockets of his cargo pants and nearly cried with relief when he found he had brought his sunglasses. He yanked them free and ignored the fact they were bent and twisted from his jungle flight. He wasn’t going for style, just protection.

He slipped the sunglasses on and made sure the shirt was tight around his head then took a deep breath and started running once more.

He was three feet into the tall grass when the first blades swung out at him. They swooped down, going for his face immediately. He flinched and cringed with each impact of grass on sunglass plastic. He felt more blades swiping at his head, but both the sunglasses and the shirt stayed in place, keeping him from being sliced and diced right there in the meadow.

Unfortunately, his arms and torso didn’t have the same protection. The sweat-stained tank top he wore became rags before he was a full twenty yards into the meadow, hanging off him by strings and grime. He hadn’t showered in days since they couldn’t spare the fresh water, so his body oils and sweat kept quite a bit of the tank top plastered to him. In seconds, blood was the main cement holding the material in place.

Dr. Chen’s arms were crisscrossed with a hundred cuts, both superficial and potentially problematic. The adrenaline in his system kept him from worrying too much, not to mention the distraction of dozens and dozens of blades of grass coming at his face over and over again. He pushed on, leaving a bloody trail of himself behind. He knew the scent would drive the creature mad once the thing reached the meadow.

If he didn’t get to the other side before that point then he didn’t expect to make it out of the meadow at all. The grass was dangerous, but not to something as huge as the creature. The blades would be stopped quickly by the thing’s thick hide. They’d cut and shave bits off here and there, but never deep enough to do any real damage.

Loud poofing noises reached his covered ears, but Dr. Chen couldn’t worry about those. He glanced up quickly, seeing the plumes of pollen burst into the air. Blue, purple, green. Not the orange or yellow, or even red, that one would expect from wildflowers. But these wildflowers, in all their eight-foot glory, were not what anyone would expect.

Dr. Chen took a deep breath and held it as spiky particles began to fall through the grass and cling to his clothes, his skin, trapped in his blood that never stopped flowing.

Never stopped flowing. Shit.

Dr. Chen realized that the grass must have developed some type of anti-coagulating properties. Even with the immense amount of perspiration seeping from his pores, some of the blood should have started to thicken. But it didn’t. His mind did the calculations and he knew he had perhaps five minutes, maybe ten, before grass or flowers or even the giant thing behind him were the least of his problems. He’d bleed to death well before any of that took him down.

Then he saw it, darkness at the end of the meadow. He shoved through the last row of grass and slid to a stop, his eyes trying to pierce the darkness of the jungle ahead of him. He couldn’t tell if anything lay in wait, ready to make a snack of him before his eyes could adjust to the gloom.

He counted to three then took off into the jungle. But he stopped only a few feet in as the creature’s roar grabbed his attention. It sounded different. Sounded like it was high up and not on the other side of the meadow. Dr. Chen spun about and watched in horror as a massive shadow darkened the middle of the meadow. The shadow raced towards him and he couldn’t figure out what it was. Then he looked up and saw the monster soaring over the grasses and wildflowers. It was in mid-leap, clearing any danger the meadow may have presented with one push of its powerful hind legs.

“You can’t do that,” Dr. Chen muttered, realizing the stupidity of his words before he even finished saying them.

Apparently it could do that.

The creature’s eyes were locked on where he stood just inside the jungle’s tree line and Dr. Chen felt trapped. Trapped by the gaze from those black, black eyes. Trapped by the knowledge that everything he thought he knew, everything they all thought they knew, was complete and utter bullshit. The rules did not apply anymore. Despite the fact that they had invented the rules.

A scream lodged in his throat, Dr. Chen turned and ran as fast as he could. He ignored the continual blood loss. He ignored the fatigue and cramps that started to set in. He ignored the creature that had broken all the rules. All he thought about was getting another ten yards, another twenty, thirty, fifty.

If he could get through that part of the jungle then he would have a chance. A small chance, but still a chance.

***

“I’ll give you one more chance, Mr. DeBruhl,” Jowarski said. “Just play along with me and answer my questions and you could get yourself out of this room alive.”

“That’s one damn empty promise,” Popeye said. “What happens when I get out of this room alive? You kill me out there?”

“I do not want you dead, Mr. DeBruhl,” Jowarski sighed. “I want you alive and cooperative. But those work hand in hand. Cooperate and stay alive.”

Popeye studied Jowarski for a few seconds then nodded. “Fine. I became a sailor because it was a way to escape without running away. I had a future, if I worked hard enough. And I’m a damned hard worker. You don’t become boatswain without busting your ass over and over again.”

“Do you like the sea?” Jowarski asked.

“I love it,” Popeye said. “More than anything else. Besides my own hide.”

“Is that so? I would think after the first encounter with the giant sharks that you would have considered a new line of work,” Jowarski said. “To save that hide. Signing on permanently with Ballantine was not exactly the best move towards self-preservation.”

“I didn’t sign on with Ballantine,” Popeye said. “I signed on with Darren, with Marty, with Cougher and the rest of the crew.”

“Gunnar? Dr. Peterson? Was he part of that as well?” Jowarski asked.

“Gun was there, yeah, but he was more like the ship’s mascot,” Popeye said.

“Really?” Jowarski laughed. “I had you pegged for that role.” He glanced down at Popeye’s stump. “No pun intended.”

“The mascot helps with morale,” Popeye said, ignoring the slight. “I’m boatswain. Morale is important, but not my priority. My priority is making sure the ship runs to its highest efficiency. Sometimes you have to take a shit on morale for that to happen. Gun always knew how to break the tension and keep the crew from getting too pissy.”

“Why do you think that is?” Jowarski asked.

“He grew up around the Thornes and Darren,” Popeye replied. “If you are part of that crowd then you learn how to diffuse tension in a hurry or you’ll get chewed up and spit out.”

“Have the Thornes always been such a violent family?” Jowarski asked. “Were they aggressive even back then?”

“Military families sometimes are,” Popeye shrugged. “But I don’t know enough about them to say what their history is. I do know that Kinsey is one tough-as-nails firecracker. You cross her and you’ll be holding your junk in your hands before you can blink. Her dad ain’t much better.”

“What about Mr. Chambers? Is he just as dangerous?” Jowarski asked.

“Darren? Nah. He has anger management issues, but then so does pretty much everyone I know,” Popeye said. “He can keep the anger in check. Unless you mess with Gun or Kinsey. Then I’d say he’s probably not the guy you want to be around.”

“He’s protective of them?” Jowarski asked.

“Hell yeah,” Popeye said. “He loves that girl like nobody’s business. He’d kill, die, come back to life, and kill again for her. Same for Gunnar. Those two are thicker than brothers.”

“Speaking of brothers,” Jowarski smiled. “Tell me about the Reynolds boys. How do they fit into the family dynamic?”

“The Reynolds? Shit, those two are misfits of the worst kind,” Popeye replied. “They never shut up and never stop cracking wise. Drives Thorne nuts. Drives most of us nuts. But you gotta love ‘em.”

“Why is that?” Jowarski asked.

“Because they know their jobs and they are great at them,” Popeye replied. “Drive you nuts or not, them boys can shoot, can fight, can find a way to survive. Shit, look at them. All burned and torn up. One’s missing half his face and the other is missing an eye. See ‘em with their shirts off and it’s nothing but a fucking Rand McNally map of scars on display.”

Popeye started to say something else, but stopped and shook his head.

“What? What is it?” Jowarski asked.

“Nothing,” Popeye said. “Just thought about how Max looked at that Darby woman. Makes me think of how Darren looks at Kinsey. Funny how shit happens on a boat.”

“Darby?” Jowarski asked, leaning forward quickly. “What does Darby have to do with Max Reynolds?”

“Ha!” Popeye laughed. “Ain’t that the question of the century! What could a stone-cold chick like that see in a clown like him? Don’t make a lick of sense. Personally, I’d be scared to death to be alone with that woman.”

“You are not the only one, Mr. DeBruhl,” Jowarski said. “That’s a wild animal being domesticated. It never ends well.”

***

The sound of rushing water drove Dr. Chen on. Not that the sound of the trees behind him being broken and mangled wasn’t enough to keep his ass moving. It was plenty. But those were sounds that almost made him want to fall in a heap and just lie on the ground in the fetal position. The rushing water meant he was close to escape. Close to maybe surviving the nightmare that his day had become.

He stumbled and nearly ran headlong into the trunk of what he guessed was in the metasequoia family. The massive redwood-like tree had to be nearly forty feet wide and stretched up into the air almost farther than the man could see. He shoved himself away from the giant conifer and stumbled around the massive trunk.

His breath caught as he saw what was before him. The edge of the jungle was backed up against a sheer cliff. Dr. Chen hurried to the edge, careful of the crumbling earth beneath his feet. He looked left and saw a way to get down, but he knew he didn’t have time for that path. The monster behind him was only a few paces, a few collapsed and crushed trees, from snatching him up in its oversized jaws.

To the right, close to a hundred yards away, was a majestic waterfall that would give sightseers and photographers heart attacks from its beauty alone. It roared over the edge of the cliff, falling at least a hundred feet before turning into a rainbow mist against the hidden rocks and boulders of the river below. Dr. Chen could reach the waterfall, but he doubted he could survive the fall.

Unless he changed, which he had been loathe to do despite the others’ assurances it was the most amazing thing ever.

It was a hard choice, one made even harder by the constant pounding of giant feet coming for him.

Die from beast or die from waterfall? Stay himself or become something else entirely?

He made his choice and sprinted to the right just as the trees behind him were turned into nothing but splinters and toothpicks. Woody shrapnel exploded around him and he screamed as he felt new wounds added to his already marred body. There were a million ways he could die in the next few minutes, but only one chance at survival.

The ubiquitous roar shoved at him like a strong wind. He ignored it, blocked it out, focused only on the waterfall ahead of him. One hundred yards became eighty, became fifty, became twenty, became nothing.

Hesitancy was death and the man didn’t want to die so he did not hesitate. He reached the edge and kept going, leaping out as far as his fatigued legs would carry him. His arms pinwheeled and the scream of fear he bellowed changed pitch and tone until it became a wail of survival, a plea to anything that would listen to save him from being an impossible monster’s meal.

Or snack. Yeah, he was only snack-sized for the creature that charged at him.

He turned in the air, his body already changing, and caught sight of the creature that had been pursuing him—a tower of a beast with a huge body, short arms, a head nearly as big as its torso, and powerful legs that looked like nothing but quivering muscle. Which they were.

He could feel his own quivering muscles as he turned into whatever he would turn into.

That was the thought in his head as he hit the water and was spun about by the force of the river that fell from above.

Dr. Chen was swept down, down, down, away from the edge of the cliff, away from the beast, that nightmare made of muscle and violence, away from the world above and into the world below. He took a deep breath and then lost it instantly as his back impacted with a heavy boulder. He roared and choked on water, his heavy body pulled downriver by the immense power of nature.

Whether that nature was actually natural or not, was up for debate.

***

“What locations or destinations did Ballantine ever talk about?” Jowarski asked. “Any special places he was fond of? Possible vacations he’d taken in the past? Maybe even a bucket list of travel spots he wanted to see?”