Cryptid Kingdom (Cryptid Zoo Book 6)

by Gerry Griffiths

  “The earthquake.”

  “Hell no!”

  “Dr. Zhang must have put you under before it struck,” Luan said.

  “Lucky me,” Mason said sarcastically.

  “I am glad you are all right,” Song said, holding onto Mason’s arm and helping him along.

  “Too bad we can’t say the same for Ramsey. So, do you think this Dr. Zhang is still around?” Mason asked.

  “If he is, he might be in his laboratory or in his living quarters,” Luan said.

  “Wait till I get my hands on him!”

  “Steady there,” Finder said. “We find him, I’ll make sure he pays for what he’s done.”

  “Here we are.” Luan used her keycard and opened the glass entrance to a small foyer with two doors. She ran her card down the reader, opening the door on the left.

  Finder was first to enter Dr. Zhang’s living quarters.

  Mason followed and thought the accommodations were a step up from the private room he had been sharing with Ramsey but not by much. The women came in after him but didn’t venture too far inside.

  Finder walked into the bedchamber and quickly came out. “He’s not here.”

  “Perhaps he is in his laboratory,” Luan said.

  Everyone went back into the vestibule and waited while Luna swiped her card to open the other door.

  As soon as they went in, Finder said, “Do you smell that? It’s the same smell as that tree.”

  The laboratory was a fair size, maybe twenty by thirty feet. High-powered microscopes, spectrometers, Bunsen burners, racks of test tubes, and other laboratory instruments a scientist would expect to use, occupied three rows of workbenches.

  Mason watched Luan scan the laboratory with a critical eye like an OSHA safety inspector searching for violations. “Do you work with Dr. Zhang?” he asked.

  “No,” Luan said, bending forward to peer in a microscope eyepiece. “I have never been inside this lab. Dr. Zhang is very protective of his research.”

  “I think you should look at this,” Finder called out.

  Mason and the women walked by the workbenches—the strange smell becoming stronger—and found Finder behind a partition, standing at the end of a large wooden table with twenty-four potted saplings in five-gallon containers.

  “What’s he doing back here; growing Bonsai trees?” But then Mason noticed the clear plastic tubing with a red liquid flowing within, set up like an irrigation drip system, each pot with a separate tube inserted in the soil.

  Luan went over to the other side of the table and followed the feeder lines that were attached to portals on a stainless-steel container that looked like a refrigerator on its back. She opened the lid and looked inside. “Oh my God. He’s got it stocked with liter bags of plasma and blood.”

  It reminded Mason of a similar scene from the movie The Thing from Another World when the scientists were using seeds to create new life—hanging on plasma bag holders and pulsating like pairs of lungs—harvested from the alien invader’s severed arm.

  Mason put his palms on the table and leaned over to take a closer look at one of the trees. “What’s this?” he said, and picked what looked like a tiny berry. He held it between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed: bursting it like a bloated mosquito filled with blood.

  “Funny,” Luan said. “Dr. Zhang never mentioned he was attempting to grow more Jinmenju trees.”

  “There’s probably a lot of things he isn’t telling you,” Finder said, having opened a storage locker. He reached in and took out a backpack. He unzipped the bag and dumped the contents onto the floor. Out fell some textbooks and a small clutch purse with a few odds and ends. He picked up the purse, looked inside, and found a student ID card.

  Song opened another locker. She found two daypacks stacked on top of one another. Mason tried the next locker and discovered two more.

  “Oh my God,” Luan said. “The rumors were true.”

  “What rumors?” Finder asked.

  “It was never proven but Dr. Zhang was suspected of abducting and killing some of his students.”

  “He probably hung them on his damn tree,” Mason said venomously.

  Luan broke into tears.

  “What is it?” Finder asked.

  “It means my father has known about Dr. Zhang for all these years,” Luan said in between sobs.

  “That is not all,” Song said. “Look at this.”

  Mason turned and saw Song pointing to two rectangular tables, each with double rows of what appeared to be ten-gallon fish tanks. He could hear a steady hum coming from a machine.

  Each glass container had a single occupant, suspended in a dank liquid. “What is that? Formaldehyde?” Mason asked.

  One of the specimens moved. “Holy shit,” he said. “They’re alive?”

  Luan approached the tanks. “Yes. They are fetuses. The liquid you see must be a synthetic embryonic fluid. You will notice that they all have umbilical cords and are hooked up to that machine.”

  “What are they?” Mason asked.

  Finder and Song moved around the tanks to get a better look at the fetuses.

  “Fu Lions,” Luan said.

  “How many of these creatures were you planning to have in the park?” Mason asked.

  “Only the two we currently have,” Luan said.

  “Looks like the doctor has plans of his own,” Mason said.

  44

  A FALLING OUT

  Carter Wilde woke up disoriented, half buried in rumble. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious. The last thing he remembered was the walls shaking and the watchtower crumbling all around him. He was able to raise his left arm and clear off some of the debris, enough that he could sit up. He felt the back of his head. His scalp was sticky, and when he looked at his hand, his fingertips were covered with blood.

  He gazed around the demolished room that earlier was a prestigious box seat and saw a body lying at the base of the bar covered with fallen debris. Wilde managed to get on his feet and stumbled across the uneven rubble. He looked down at the man covered in grime. “Joel, how bad is it?”

  Dr. McCabe made a face. “My arm’s broken,” his voice was wheezy. “Maybe some ribs.”

  Wilde, too, was having trouble breathing, and for a surreal moment, thought he was sharing a symbiotic experience of empathy with his brother. But then Wilde inhaled and choked on the thick brick dust in the air and knew that was the real reason for his shortness of breath.

  Dropping to one knee, Wilde said, “Hang on,” and rummaged through his coat pocket but came up empty. He glanced about, hoping to spot his cell phone.

  He saw Henry Chang’s legs sticking out from under a crossbeam lying across his chest, his right arm penned—possibly severed—under the twisted steel. Chang attempted to move and let out a mournful cry.

  Wilde heard bricks tumble down behind him. He turned and saw one of his bodyguards—Simmons or was it Shelton, he couldn’t quite remember—climbing down through an unstable hole in the wall.

  “Sir, are you hurt?” asked the bodyguard.

  “No. Help Dr. McCabe,” Wilde said.

  The burly bodyguard stomped over. He reached down to grab McCabe by both hands.

  “Not the arm,” Dr. McCabe said.

  “Are you able to walk?” Wilde asked McCabe as the bodyguard gingerly helped the doctor to his feet.

  “Sure, I’m...” but when he took a step, McCabe collapsed. The bodyguard caught him, slipped his arm under McCabe’s armpit, and reached around the doctor’s back to keep him on his feet.

  “Help me,” Chang pleaded. A spurt of blood squirted out from under the beam.

  Wilde came over and stood over Chang. “How much?”

  “What?” Chang said, wincing with pain.

  “How much is it worth to you for my help?” Wilde asked snidely. “Certainly we can do better than twenty percent.”

  “All right, all right,” Chang grimaced. “I will give you thirty percent of the franchise.
”

  “Goodbye Henry.”

  “No, no stop. Forty.”

  “I’m sure you can do better than that,” Wilde said.

  “Tell him you want the patents to his daughter’s work,” McCabe said.

  Chang glared up at Wilde. “I will not!”

  “Sounds fair to me,” Wilde said. “Especially after the way you disrespected me.”

  “What about Dr. Zhang?” Chang said.

  “What about him?”

  “You can have his biological patents. Now please, I need medical attention.”

  “What makes you think he’ll just hand them over?” Wilde asked.

  “Because I know what he did and I own them,” Chang replied.

  “What, you’re blackmailing Zhang?”

  “Just as long as Dr. Zhang works for me,” Chang said, “his secrets will be safe.”

  “Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but your Dr. Zhang now works for me. Oh, and that forty percent. Not interested.”

  “Damn you, Wilde! I will ruin you!”

  “I really don’t think you are in any position to make threats.” Wilde turned to his bodyguard assisting McCabe. “Here, let me take him.” He went over and supported his brother.

  “Do you want me to go get help?” the bodyguard asked.

  “No!” Wilde said adamantly. “I want you to put Mr. Chang out of his misery.”

  “Carter, are you sure?” McCabe said. “It could make trouble for us.”

  “Wilde, you son of a bitch!” Chang screamed.

  The bodyguard stepped up to Chang and pulled his gun out from under his suit jacket. He pointed the muzzle at Chang’s head.

  “No, you moron,” Wilde said.

  The bodyguard turned to his boss.

  “It has to look like he died from the earthquake.”

  Holstering his gun, the bodyguard searched around, and picked up a large hunk of concrete the size of a bowling ball.

  “That’s more like it,” Wilde said.

  The bodyguard raised the cement chunk over his head.

  Everyone froze to the sudden chatter of Chinese on the other side of the high mound of broken bricks.

  Not knowing what they were saying, Wilde didn’t know if they were frightened visitors scrambling for a way out, a rescue team searching for survivors, or Chang’s men looking for their employer.

  “Shit, forget it. Let’s go!” Wilde said.

  The bodyguard dropped the intended murder weapon.

  Wilde and the big man helped McCabe through a gap in the wall onto the parapet walkway and hurried as fast as they could, leaving the clamoring voices behind.

  45

  8-HEADED BEAST

  “Watch it!” Anna yelled when another car cut in front of them. Mack swerved to miss the oncoming vehicle speeding out of Cryptid Kingdom’s chaotic parking lot.

  Hundreds of people ran frantically between the parked cars. They had to dodge automobiles ramming into other vehicles as though they were spectators that had mistakenly stepped into the middle of a track at a demolition derby.

  Anna cringed when she saw a man get mowed down, and the car that struck him ran over his body, the front tire rolling over his head, and the rear finishing off the job, flattening his gourd onto the asphalt.

  The lane was blocked up ahead by a three-car wreck.

  “It’s no use,” Mack said. “We’re going to have to chance it on foot.”

  Getting out her side, Anna heard screaming and the constant slamming of metal on metal as more cars careened into one another.

  A woman and three children ran toward her. Anna sidestepped to let them pass.

  The youngest girl trailing behind tripped and fell on the ground.

  Anna rushed over and helped her up. “Are you hurt, sweetie?” She couldn’t have been older than ten. The girl looked up at Anna, her eyes wide with fear.

  The mother scrambled back, screaming in Chinese. She grabbed her daughter, gave Anna a brief nod of thanks, and raced after her other children.

  “Come on, I think we can get in at the southern entrance,” Mack said, pulling Anna onto her feet and sprinting between the cars and the fleeing park visitors.

  It took them a few minutes before they were able to reach the dragonhead archway only to find that is was blocked by twisted wrought iron and a barrier of tumbledown masonry.

  “Feel up to a little wall climbing?” Mack asked.

  “Lead the way,” Anna replied, always up for a challenge. She watched Mack attack the dangerous pile of rubble and make it up ten feet before following him up. One false move and the entire mountain of bricks could come tumbling down in a bone-breaking avalanche. Twice, Mack slipped, dislodging a brick (each time narrowly missing his partner), still managing his ascent without sending the rest crashing down on Anna’s head.

  Reaching the top, they carefully descended down the other side.

  Anna took out her phone and called Caroline’s number. “Hello? Yes, we’re here. Where are you?” She listened for a moment then ended the call.

  “Well?” Mack asked.

  “She said there’s a lot of flooding where they’re at and they’re cutting across the park toward the west entrance,” Anna said.

  “That’s good,” Mack said. “We can meet them in the middle.”

  Anna and Mack started out and jogged beneath the trestles supporting the roller coaster track that looped around the inside perimeter of the park. A portion of the track had buckled and broken away, undermined by the earthquake, resulting in a derailed train that was upside down on the ground, surrounded by scattered bodies.

  A small group of people rushed by like shell-shocked city dwellers after an air raid followed by a mixed herd of white deer with huge antlers and smaller brown deer with strange looking fangs.

  “That was weird,” Mack said.

  “Oh yeah? Check that out,” Anna said and pointed to the pack of raptors coming straight for them. Just like the deer, the bird-like dinosaurs varied in appearance, some the size of turkeys with blue and red feathers, the others as big as ostriches covered with green plumes.

  Unsure if they were an immediate threat, Anna and Mack drew their side arms.

  Two of the larger dinosaurs headed in their direction. Mack raised his gun and fired a shot in the air.

  The raptors turned abruptly and darted toward the ruins of a building that had completely collapsed next to a sign: DRAGON PAGODA.

  Anna saw the uppermost part of the rubble bulge like the bubbling crust of an oven-baked potpie.

  A dragon’s head emerged, then another head on the end of a long neck, followed by more, until there were eight flailing heads, as one neck was missing a head. The beast pushed its body out of the rubble. It climbed out on four legs, swooshing its long tail.

  “Where’s a dragon slayer when you need one?” Mack quipped.

  Anna aimed her gun at the beast but it was impossible to get a clear headshot with the necks thrashing about like writhing octopus tentacles. She doubted if their bullets would even penetrate its thick, scaly chest.

  The 8-headed dragon lumbered down out of the wreckage like a scene straight out of a low-budget creature feature motion picture and stomped toward Anna and Mack.

  “What do we do now?” Mack said.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Anna replied.

  “What?”

  “Run!”

  46

  FOWL PLAY

  The Fu Lions looked like bronze statues that had suddenly come to life. Their rust-colored mullet-like manes were swirling curls stretching over their furrowed brows above flat pug noses with flaring nostrils. The sharp tips of the upper and lower incisors were visibly touching in their savage mouths that ran along the jawbones. Dangling off their chins were Fu Manchu extensions that hung down to their chests.

  They were unbelievably muscular and wore ornate bridles draped around their bulging shoulders. Padlock lockets hung over their barrel chests. Armored sleeves covered their powerful legs and
the talons on their two-knuckle paws were as big as railroad spikes.

  The closest Fu Lion stood twenty feet away from Jack, Nora, and Lennie; the second creature twice the distance but steadily approaching.

  “They’re enormous,” Jack said. It was impossible to guess their weight given their dense body mass. He wouldn’t have been a bit surprised to learn they were pumped up on steroids.

  “How are we going to get out of this one?” Nora asked, standing on Jack’s right.

  Jack glanced quickly over his shoulder for somewhere to retreat. The only place he could see to go was back inside the partially standing temple, but that would only mean getting cornered with nowhere to run.

  “What do you think, you big oaf?” Jack said, looking up at Lennie.

  “Really, Jack?” Nora said. “You’re taking your playbook from him?”

  Lennie stared out at the two Fu Lions and growled, baring his tombstone teeth. He even went as far as thumping his chest with his basketball-sized fist.

  The Fu Lions accepted the challenge and roared back.

  Jack watched the twelve-foot tall Yeren bend down and pick up a large rock.

  “Seriously?” Jack said.

  Lennie ignored Jack, reared back his arm, and flung the heavy rock.

  Jack watched with astonishment as the rock—sounding like a hammer striking the inside of a church bell—grazed the nearest Fu Lion’s shoulder.

  The Fu Lion stood unfazed.

  “Told you,” Jack said.

  Lennie reached down and picked up an even bigger rock. He hefted it in the palm of his hand like a shot-putter ready to outdistance an opponent.

  “Oh, what the hell.” Nora grabbed a rock off the ground.

  Jack looked at her. “You’d have better luck stopping an armored truck with a water balloon.”

  “You have another plan, I’m all ears?” Nora said, tossing the rock like a baseball back and forth between her hands. “At least maybe we can drive them away.”

  “You really think it’s going to work?”

  “Being a cryptozoologist, I think I know a thing or two about animal behavior.”

  Lennie let out a fierce growl.