Mega 4: Behemoth Island (18 page)

“Good point,” Thorne said. “I just need to know I can trust you.”

Darby nodded then walked up to Max, grabbed him by the back of the head, and kissed him long and hard. There was no doubt that she wasn’t faking her passion for the Reynolds brother.

“You can trust her,” Max said when Darby finally broke away and he could catch his breath. “That’s not Little Max talking. She’s legit.”

“Fine,” Thorne nodded and held out his hand. “Let’s make this formal. Welcome to the family.”

Darby took his hand and shook it.

“Now, I need to keep looking for a way through this wall,” Darby said.

“I guess I’m the only one that isn’t family in some way,” Lucy said. “Max and Shane are brothers. Darby is with Max. Thorne is their uncle. Darren was married to Kinsey who is Thorne’s daughter. All family.”

“You flicked my dick,” Shane said. “You count as family.” He cupped his crotch again. “But don’t do it again, okay?”

Lucy gave him a wink then walked over to help Darby.

***

The mini-sub looked like a sleek missile that tapered from the front to the back. It was nothing like the bulky yellow mini-sub they used to have. Kinsey eyed it warily as it bobbed up and down in the water that filled half the specimen bay at the belly of the B3.

“We’re going to be ass to nose in there,” Kinsey said as Ingrid set a case down on the deck next to her. “How will we even move?”

“Not ass to nose,” Ingrid said. “Belly to back. You’ll be underneath piloting the sub and I’ll be basically right on top of you taking readings. There’s a metal grate between us, so I won’t be literally right on top of you.”

“Not that that wouldn’t be nice to see,” Carlos said.

“Did you just go there?” Kinsey asked as she turned on the tech. “Do you want to die that badly?”

“It was a joke,” Carlos grumbled. “No need to get pissy. All the crap you operators put me through and you can’t take one joke. You guys are always joking. It’s all you ever do is joke.”

“Make it funny next time,” Kinsey said. “Better yet, how about there just not be a next time?”

“Get in the sub,” Carlos said and then flinched at the look he received from Kinsey. “Please.”

“You’re fucking A right please,” Kinsey said.

She stepped onto the narrow plank that led from the deck to the back of the mini-sub where a very small hatch stood open. It took her a second to get across the plank then wiggle down through the hatch and into the sub. It became very obvious that Ballantine did not intend any of the men to pilot the sub. It was only big enough for her or Darby.

Kinsey worked her way through a thin slot in the grate that separated the two levels of the sub and lay down on her belly in front of the meager control station. Ingrid climbed in after her and settled on the grate above.

“I’m locking us down,” Ingrid said as she closed the hatch and turned the wheel until it was sealed. “Carlos is already starting the purge process.”

“He is?” Kinsey asked. “I don’t even know how to pilot this yet.”

“Oh, it’s simple,” Ingrid said. “Basically the same as the other mini-sub. Steering is there. Throttle is there. You’ll figure it out on the go. The real reason Carlos is purging already is he has to open the bay doors manually and then he’ll have to pump out the excess water manually once we’re gone.”

“Oh, shit, really?” Kinsey laughed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have been so hard on him.”

“It’s not like he has to do it by himself,” Ingrid said. “Cougher and some of the crew are helping.”

“Oh, then fuck him,” Kinsey replied.

“Yeah, fuck him,” Ingrid laughed.

Ingrid pointed out what everything did and Kinsey settled into her spot as they felt the sub start to move back and forth.

“Specimen bay is flooded,” Ingrid said. “Doors are open. We can leave whenever you are ready.”

Kinsey stared out the small window that sat over the control console. She aimed for the open water, pushed the throttle forward, made sure her rudders were straight, and piloted the sub out of the B3.

“What’s this thing’s name?” Kinsey asked.

“I don’t know,” Ingrid said. “We haven’t named it yet.”

“We’ll have to work on that,” Kinsey said. “Bad luck for it not to have a name.”

“Ballantine usually likes to name things himself,” Ingrid said.

“Fuck Ballantine,” Kinsey said. “Is he cramped in here with us?”

“Nope,” Ingrid replied.

“Then we name it,” Kinsey said.

“Cool,” Ingrid said and grinned as the sub worked its way out into the depths.

***

“Doctors,” Ballantine said as he walked back into the infirmary. “I’d like to introduce Ronald. He was stationed at one of our other islands. The one that dealt with recreating individual genetic specimens as opposed to the work you all have done recreating entire biospheres. His work, as well as Dr. Boris Kelnichov’s, was instrumental in what you have achieved.” He cleared his throat. “And then promptly lost control of.”

Drs. Werth and Sales slunk back away from the gigantopithecus, but Dr. Logan stayed steady. After a couple of seconds of awe, he extended his hand.

“Good to meet you, Ronald.” Dr. Logan said.

“You as well,” Ronald said, shaking the man’s hand. He smiled down at the scientist and showed him his very, very large teeth. “I am sorry, but I did not catch your name.”

Dr. Logan glanced at Ballantine who just stood to the side, his arms folded across his chest.

“Ballantine didn’t tell you?” Dr. Logan said. “Ah, well, I’m Dr. Will Logan. This is—”

“No, your real names,” Ronald said. “Not the names you have taken to match your appearances.” Ronald tapped his nose. “I can tell you are lying, so don’t try to keep the ruse going. Your real names, please.”

“Ballantine? What is this?” Dr. Logan asked.

“An interrogation,” Ballantine said. “Interrogation by Bigfoot.”

“Ballantine,” Ronald growled. “You know I do not like that name.”

“Sorry,” Ballantine said. “I apologize. It was just too good not to say. Interrogation by Bigfoot has a ring to it. I do like a good ring.”

“Ballantine, listen, you have lost your mind,” Dr. Logan said. He hopped off the exam table and took a step forward, but a hairy hand to his chest stopped him in his tracks.

“Ballantine is listening,” Ronald said, easily pushing Dr. Logan back onto the table. “As am I. What is your real name?”

“This is ridiculous,” Dr. Logan snapped. “You know exactly who I am. Quiz me. Go ahead.”

“What’s your father’s mother’s maiden name?” Ballantine asked.

“My what? Are you joking? I don’t think I ever learned that,” Dr. Logan said. “If I did, I’ve forgotten it. She passed away years ago.”

“Not bad,” Ballantine said, clapping lightly. “Very plausible response. But the wrong one. You see, Dr. Logan, her maiden name is your last name. Dr. Will Logan’s father was raised by an unwed, single mother. It is part of why the real Will Logan was driven to succeed. He wanted legitimacy his own father never had. So, you lose. Ronald? Rip his arms out of his sockets, if you please.”

“I do please,” Ronald said. The toothy grin was back. “I have been needing to tear arms off. I get stuck in my head so much as a researcher that I sometimes need a return to the primal.”

“Wait!” Dr. Logan yelled before Ronald even took a step. “Okay! Okay, okay… I’m not Will Logan. I look like him, but I’m not him.”

“Are any of you who you say you are?” Ronald asked. “Please be honest. As much as I want to tear your arms off, I prefer honesty. It’s much more civilized.”

“Ronald is very civilized,” Ballantine said. “More so than me.”

Ballantine walked over to a tray with medical tools laid out in a row. He picked up a pair of heavy duty forceps.

“I bet these could rip some eyelids right off,” Ballantine mused. “What do you think, Ronald?”

“I think that would be a misuse of perfectly good equipment,” Ronald said. “It would be easier to use my nails.” He showed the three doctors his long, sharp nails.

“They are who they say they are,” Dr. Logan said. “You can do DNA testing. That is Dr. Harley Werth and that is Dr. Lucas Sales.”

“And you are?” Ronald asked.

“Timothy Norris,” Dr. Logan replied. “Dr. Timothy Norris.”

Setting the forceps down and leaving them behind, Ballantine frowned and moved forward until he was only a few inches from the man that called himself Dr. Logan.

“Timothy?” Ballantine said, looking the man over. “What the fuck happened?”

“You know this man, Ballantine?” Ronald asked.

“I do,” Ballantine said. “He was Dr. Logan’s assistant for years. I suspect he wrote half the man’s papers.”

“More than half,” Dr. Logan, nee Dr. Norris replied. “Will wasn’t the greatest writer so I did most of that work and he would go over it, change what he wanted to change, then approve it and put his name on it.”

“Did you kill him?” Ballantine asked bluntly.

“What?” Dr. Norris gasped. “No! I would never have hurt Will! Yes, he could be an ass, but he wasn’t that much of an ass.”

“Then why are you him?” Ballantine asked.

“Do you still need me?” Ronald asked. “I’d like to rejoin Boris and Lisa in the lab. We have been having a fine time studying the primitives’ corpses.”

“Primitives’ corpses?” Dr. Norris asked. He looked back at the other doctors and they blanched. “You have them here? On board this ship?”

“Yes,” Ballantine said. “They attacked us and tried to take the ship. We stopped them. It’s what we do.”

“It seems to be all we do,” Ronald said. “I do miss my time on the island with my lab and specimens.”

“The pirate’s life isn’t exactly Ronald’s cup of tea,” Ballantine said.

“Do you have tea?” Dr. Werth asked, her eyes hoping and expectant.

“Yes, quite a nice selection,” Ronald said.

“The corpses, take me to them,” Dr. Norris said. “I need to show you something. It’s something you’ll miss unless you are looking for it.”

“Does it have to do with why you look like Dr. Logan?” Ballantine asked.

“One hundred percent,” Dr. Norris said. “It’s how I can prove that taking Will’s face was the only path. Everything else led to destruction.”

“Seemed that happened anyway,” Ballantine said.

“Not nearly on the scale it could have been,” Dr. Norris replied.

Ballantine studied the man for a full minute then nodded.

“My bullshit detector isn’t going off, so yes, you may see the corpses,” he said. “Ronald? Will you show Drs. Werth and Sales to the mess and get them some tea?”

Ronald groaned. “But, Ballantine, I would much prefer to be in the lab when—”

“Please?” Ballantine asked. “Come on, big guy. When do I ever say please? If I’m saying please then I must really mean it.”

“Yes,” Ronald said. “Of course. Doctors? This way.”

Ballantine watched them leave then turned to Dr. Norris. “I have to say the resemblance is uncanny.”

“It should be,” Dr. Norris responded. “This is a perfect clone of Dr. Logan’s body.”

“Clone? This isn’t surgical?” Ballantine asked.

“No,” Dr. Norris replied.

“Jesus,” Ballantine said. “He did it then. He applied the science to humans, not just to the prehistoric DNA. Perfect replication.”

“He did,” Dr. Norris said and nodded. “Then it killed him. If I hadn’t taken his place, we’d all be dead. It was the only way I could keep control of Alpha and then get her to attempt it as well.”

“Get who to attempt what?” Ballantine asked.

“Dr. Liu,” Dr. Norris said. “She drank her own Kool-Aid, Ballantine. And it did very bad things to her.” He shook his head. “It’ll do bad things to me, too, but I can live with that. Or perhaps not live, as the case may be.”

“Come on,” Ballantine said, eyeing the man for a couple of seconds. “We’ll talk as I take you to the lab. I’m not liking the sound of Kool-Aid. If anyone gets to dispense Kool-Aid on one of my islands, it’s me.”

Chapter Nine- Should We Stay Or Should We Go Now

The wall slid to the side and Team Grendel jumped back, plasma rifles, kitchen knives, and various weapons up and at the ready. The smell of smoke and damp intensified, which wasn’t a surprise. What was a surprise were the halogen lights that shone brightly in the corridor beyond.

And the sound of machinery running.

“This can’t be the other facility,” Shane said. “That one was blasted all to shit.”

“He’s right,” Darren agreed.

“I know,” Thorne said. “I saw it as well.”

“This is the other facility,” Darby said. “The distance we traveled and the course we took means there is no other option.”

“There has to be another option,” Max said. “We just spiraled around and around for hours. We could be anywhere on this island.”

“But we aren’t anywhere,” Darby replied. “We’re at the Omega facility.”

“Omega?” Thorne asked.

“I’ve read the files,” Darby said. “I’ve read all the files. Ballantine pretends like I haven’t because it was a breach of his trust.” She hefted the plasma rifle and aimed it at the lit corridor beyond. “Fuck that. He can trust me or not, I don’t give a shit anymore.”

She moved forward before Thorne could give the okay. Everyone fell in line behind her, trusting her illicit knowledge to keep them alive. Or at least give them a fighting chance.

“Sounds like your girlfriend is having an existential crisis,” Lucy whispered to Max.

“Big word for someone without clothes,” Max replied.

“What does that mean?” Lucy snapped.

“I don’t know,” Max said. “Sorry. My girlfriend is having an existential crisis.”

He glanced at Lucy.

“Nice abs, by the way,” Max said. “You have to show me what core routine you do. I just can’t get that cut.”

Lucy laughed quietly.

“You need a joint to focus,” she said. “Your brain is starting to wander.”

“Good call,” Max said, fishing a joint out of a pocket on his vest. He sparked it and drew deep then handed it over to Lucy. She took a huge toke, reached forward, and tapped Shane on the shoulder. He looked back and his eye went wide.

“What the fuck?” he said. “Where were you hiding that? Do I even want to know?”

“Dude, I had it,” Max said.

“Oh, right, my bad,” Shane replied, taking the joint and nearly killing it in one draw. He exhaled and grinned from ear to ear. “There it is. The sweet spot.”

“I hear that,” Max said.

“Boys,” Thorne hissed. “If we all die because you’re getting stoned instead of paying the fuck attention, I’ll fucking kill your ghosts.”

“If we all die then you’d be a ghost too, Uncle Vinny,” Max said.

“You think my ghost wouldn’t be able to fucking annihilate your ghosts?” Thorne asked.

“Good point,” Shane said.

Darby held up a fist and everyone stopped. All thoughts of ghosts and joints and dying were gone. Team Grendel was instant business. Darby pointed at a set of double doors where the machinery sounds were the loudest. Before she could move forward, the doors started to slide apart.

“Back!” Darby hissed. “In there!”

There was a second set of double doors behind them and to their right. Max slung his plasma rifle and gripped the gap between the doors, pushing as hard as he could to get them open. Lucy shoved her pot lid into the gap and pressed it back, using it as a wedge so everyone else could get their hands inside and push.

The doors slid far enough apart that each operator could just barely squeeze through. Darren, being the largest, almost didn’t make it before figures started to come out of the other set of doors, but he got inside and was yanked back into the shadows by the others just as the figures passed the doors.

A long line of croanderthals lumbered past, nearly moving in unison as their long, hairy arms swung back and forth and their thick legs shuffled them along. Males and females were interspersed. It took several minutes for the line to finally thin out.

Before anyone moved, Darby held up a fist and waited. After a few seconds, a croanderthal came creeping back to the gap in their doors. He sniffed the air and furrowed his thick, heavy brow. He reached a massive hand into the gap and was about to push on the doors when there were several loud grunts from down the corridor. The croanderthal grunted back, took a last look at the gap, and then lumbered away.

No one moved for a couple minutes then Darby nodded and they all squeezed back into the corridor.

“Is it me or did they all look the same?” Max asked.

“Racist,” Shane responded.

“Fuck you,” Max said.

“No, he’s right,” Lucy said. “Other than the obvious difference between the genders, they do look the same. Or most of them.”

“Four males and three females,” Darby said.

“There were a few more than that,” Shane said.

“I meant that there were four male templates and three female templates,” Darby said. “I know how many total there were. I can fucking count.”

Shane held up his hands. “Back off, angry lady. Same side.”

“I’m not angry,” Darby sighed. “I’m tired. I want to get this mission over with and move on.”

“What is our mission?” Darren asked. “Vincent?”

Thorne looked at Darby, but she only shrugged.

“Clean up Ballantine’s mess, as usual,” Thorne said.

“This is a pretty fucking big mess,” Max said.

He was about to say more, but they had come to the double doors with the machine sounds. Darby pressed a lever and the doors slid right open, no groaning or protesting. What they saw inside stopped all words from coming out of everyone’s mouths.

The room beyond was cavernous and filled with hundreds and hundreds of vats of semi-clear liquid. Inside each vat was some type of creature, from strange-looking dinosaurs to plants of questionable origin. None of the vats were larger than a microwave and they were stacked one upon the other, row after row for as far as they could see.

But what held their attention weren’t the prehistoric creatures or tentacled plants, it was the line of fifty vats towards the front that held miniature versions of the croanderthals. And those vats were systematically emptying their contents onto a conveyer belt that moved the seemingly sleeping figures towards a row of shower heads that rinsed them off before dropping them onto a large, bright grey mat.

Once the mat was filled, the vats stopped dumping and the conveyer belt stopped moving. The cavernous room was filled with the scent of ozone and the mat began to crackle and spark with electricity. The miniature croanderthals shuddered and bounced on the mat until the sparks stopped.

Then they grew. They grew to their full size, opened their eyes, and all turned towards the double doors. Which was exactly where Team Grendel still stood.

“We should go,” Max said quietly. “Like now.”

Team Grendel spun about and were ready to get the hell out of there, but they found their exit blocked by fifty croanderthals.

“Son of a bitch,” Thorne grumbled. He sighed and looked at Darby. “Light them up.”

Darby smiled and put her plasma rifle to her shoulder. Then she lit them up.

***

Kinsey was impressed with how responsive the mini-sub was, which she and Ingrid had dubbed the Barracuda because of its long shape. Kinsey knew that it looked nothing like a barracuda, but fuck it, she was the one sweating her tits off in the thing, so she was going to name it Barracuda.

Plus, she got to hum the Heart song over and over while she worked the controls, which was cool.

“We’ve been pinged,” Ingrid said.

“That’s not good,” Kinsey said. “The ship knows we’re coming.”

“Maybe not,” Ingrid said. “Moshi worked her magic on the hull. If what she said would happen does happen then the ship only sees us as a tenth our size. We look like a tarpon or something similar, not like a mini-sub.”

“This thing barely looks like a mini-sub,” Kinsey said. “Even full size it would be confusing.”

“Maybe act more fish like, just in case,” Ingrid said.

“What the hell does that mean?” Kinsey asked.

“I don’t know,” Ingrid replied. “Swim around in circles or dive down then come up. Do what fish do.”

“Okay,” Kinsey said and started to weave the Barracuda back and forth, hoping she looked like an imitation of a fish swimming through the water.

After a few minutes with no response or apparent reaction from the ship, Kinsey relaxed slightly and got into the rhythm of piloting like a fish. It was somewhat soothing.

Until an alarm rang out in the mini-sub and Ingrid gasped.

“It didn’t work!” she cried. “It didn’t work! They are opening torpedo bays!”

“Wait, what?” Kinsey shouted. “They have torpedo bays? What kind of fucking ship is this?”

“A really well-armed one!” Ingrid cried. “Ten torpedo bays, six cannons on deck, more than a few machine gun nests, as well as what look like a couple racks of depth charges.”

“Holy shit,” Kinsey said. “This ship is coming to kill us all, isn’t it?”

“Looks like it,” Ingrid said.

“How do we evade the torpedoes?” Kinsey asked. “We can’t outrun them in this thing.”

“We don’t need to,” Ingrid said. “Keep your current course. I’ll handle the torpedoes. But whatever you do, please stay on course. I haven’t quite figured out the nuances of the EMP cannon.”

“EMP cannon? What the fuck, Ingrid?” Kinsey snapped. “Won’t that hurt us too?”

“Shouldn’t,” Ingrid said as a loud whining filled the mini-sub. “Not in theory.”

“Great,” Kinsey said. “I love relying on theory.”

“Stay the course,” Ingrid said.

“Can you see my middle finger?” Kinsey asked.

“Thankfully, no,” Ingrid said. “But I’ve seen it before, so I can picture it in my mind.”

“Picture it up your ass if this goes south,” Kinsey said.

“Really?” Ingrid laughed.

“Okay, don’t picture that,” Kinsey laughed as well. “I was trying to sound like my cousins. They always say shit like that.”

“I know,” Ingrid said. “It’s cute. Especially the way Shane says things.”

“Don’t even go there,” Kinsey said. “You do not want to get involved with my cousins. Darby with Max is one thing, but you will find nothing but heartbreak getting with an operator.”

“I’m not looking for long term,” Ingrid said. “Just a long orgasm. God, I haven’t had one of those in a while.”

Kinsey shivered. “Okay, okay, enough with the orgasm talk about my cousin,” Kinsey said. “You so do not want me to throw up in this thing.”

“Sorry,” Ingrid said. “But do you think he’d—”

“Nope,” Kinsey said. “Just nope. Talk to Lucy or Darby about this, not me.”

“Sorry,” Ingrid said again. “Three seconds until the torpedoes are in range.”

“We disable those and they’ll know for sure we aren’t a fish,” Kinsey said.

“I believe it’s too late for that,” Ingrid replied. “Here we go.”

The whining grew louder and there was a clang, like two pots being smacked together. Kinsey winced at the sound and waited.

“Torpedoes are disabled,” Ingrid said. “They are sinking below us.”

“Right on,” Kinsey said.

Then their world was rocked and everything started to roll.

“What happened?” Kinsey shouted as the Barracuda turned and twisted in the water, all the systems blinking on and off over and over again. “Did we EMP ourselves? Goddammit, Ingrid! I knew this shit would fuck us up!”

“No, it wasn’t the EMP!” Ingrid yelled. “It was the torpedoes! We shut down their motors, but didn’t disarm them! They went off below us and the concussions have hurt us bad!”

“How bad?” Kinsey shouted as she struggled to get control of the mini-sub. “Ingrid? How bad?”

“Bad,” Ingrid said. “We’ll sink in about five minutes!”

“Shit,” Kinsey said and reached over to her side where a rebreather sat nestled into a small nook. “Get your mustache on.”

“My what?” Ingrid asked.

“Your mustache,” Kinsey repeated. “And make sure your compression suit is ready.”

“Uh…”

“Ingrid? You are wearing a compression suit, right?” Kinsey asked.

“I sort of forgot,” Ingrid said. “This is just a regular wet suit. I don’t have a compression suit on.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” Kinsey said. “These are tropical waters and we aren’t that deep. You’ll be fine.”

The Barracuda shuddered several times then everything went dark except for the faint light that filtered in through the window in front of Kinsey.

“Mustache now!” Kinsey yelled. “We are getting the fuck out of this thing!”

Kinsey twisted around and watched as Ingrid fit the small rebreather unit under her nose. The woman gagged and choked as black tendrils worked their way up her nostrils and down her throat. Kinsey couldn’t help but smile as she knew exactly how uncomfortable that feeling was before the tendrils thickened in position in a person’s trachea, sealing off the airway so that no water could get in.