“How could she have got lost? The path is so obvious.”
“Perhaps she saw something and went to investigate.”
Joshua tries his radio again, but she makes no reply.
“Try her mobile.”
Joshua scrolls through his contacts and dials her number. It rings. Kyla’s voice answers yet again, and asks him to leave a message. “Hey! It’s Joshua. Call me as soon as you get this message ... OK? Damn!” Call ended he searches over the heads of the group, hopeful that he will see her making her way towards him. The forest remains still. He wipes at the sweat beading on his brow. Where the hell is she!
“Josh, we should get back. Get someone out here to search for her.”
“But we’re already here! We are the ones to look!”
“I’m not going back without her.”
Joshua checks his watch. Just after noon. At this time of year, twilight is around 7pm, but they need to be out of the forest way before that, to be safe. Apart from the lack of supplies, they haven’t come equipped for a night out, or even the dip in temperature that the evening will bring. “God damn it! Kyla!” he shouts. “Where the hell are you?”
A bird catapults from a tree close by and flutters into the sky. He notes the opaque caste of the sky. Blue earlier, it is now a pearlescent grey. “Storms coming!”
“A storm?”
“Yep! By the look of that sky.”
All eyes turn upwards.
“We should turn back.”
“But we can’t leave her here.”
Beyond the boulder where Rachel had sat, a pathway seems to have been trodden through the undergrowth. Stepping over a large boulder mostly buried in the earth, Joshua notes the broken twigs and snapped ferns, the squashed stems where something weighty has trodden them down. Through the trees, a steep and rocky outcrop rises to create a wall of stone. At the top is a promontory that will make an excellent place to look out over the forest. “Something has been this way.” He fingers the rifle slung across his front.
“Perhaps what took Kyla?”
“There’s no evidence that anything took Kyla.”
“Apart from the fact that a woman who has spent her whole life tracking animals through woods like this has disappeared without trace!”
“Perhaps she just went back?”
Boyd snorts. “No way would Kyla go back! She lives and breathes being a Coast Guard.”
“She could be injured?”
“Perhaps we should go back? I mean ...”
“No, let’s continue forward. I want to get to the top of that rock and take a look out over this place. If Kyla is injured, she may have lit a fire to help us locate her.”
“Why would she light a fire?”
“It’s something I remember she said once. She got lost in the woods as a kid, so she lit a fire and the smoke helped her parents find her.”
“Smart kid.”
“She’s a smart woman.”
Mumbled assent through the group and they all agree that Kyla is probably fine, and whatever has happened to her, she is more than capable of getting herself out of a sticky situation. Joshua listens to the men’s talk with rising concern. Everything they said about Kyla’s abilities and experience makes him believe that something terrible has happened to her. How could she have gone missing? It was impossible that a woman with such experience would disappear without trace, she had either been attacked by something, or fallen, but they would have heard her screams if she’d fallen, or been attacked—surely! He turns from the group and steps further up the steeply rising pathway leading them to the base of the rock. It juts almost vertically for at least thirty feet. Saplings and ferns grow from rocky outcrops. “It’s a dead end.”
“But the path leads here. You can see the tracks.” Rachel reaches for a newly broken twig, noticing the trampled fern that catches her attention.
“We could have done that.”
“We could, but is one of us bleeding?”
Joshua swings to Rachel. In her hand is a long and curling frond. Snapped at the middle, it hangs broken, its stem crushed and smeared red. “This looks to me,” Rachel says meeting his eyes, “as though something with blood on its foot has stepped on it.”
“Then they must have come this far and turned back.”
Rachel takes a step past him, scouring the rock, and points to a place where it has sheared leaving a jagged shelf at eye level. “There’s blood here too. And,” she reaches into the crevice and tugs, “and hair.” She pulls a tuft from the rock. “It’s the same! Whatever was at the beach, climbed up here!”
Joshua peers to the top of the rock, a goat, or a seasoned climber could manage the cliff-like promontory, but there are no mountain goats, or seasoned climbers, on Volkolak. “Can I see the hair?”
“They’re the same ... aren’t they.”
The hairs are the same coarse mixture of black, copper, and deep chestnut. “Yes, I think they are.”
“So ...” her eyes wander to the rocky outcrop then turn back to meet his with a flicker of excitement, “whatever was on the beach, went up there?” She cranes her neck to follow the rock face to its summit.
“Perhaps.”
“You sayin’ that whatever killed that bear on the beach was here, and climbed that?” Boyd points to the vertical rock face.
Joshua nods.
“Ain’t no bear that could climb that!”
“A wolf perhaps?”
A hand rests on his shoulder, and Craig, a broad-shouldered man who stands several inches above him, points upwards. “Tell me I’m not seeing that!”
Alerted by the anxiety in the man’s voice, Joshua follows his pointing finger. The group quiets to silence as each of them peer at the rock. About ten feet from the top, is what looks like a bloody handprint.
“Is that a handprint?”
“Where? Show me!”
“I see it.”
Joshua’s belly knots as the track of whatever climbed up the rockface becomes clear; a partial footprint, a palmprint where a hand had clasped the rock, the wisp of hairs that had caught.
“That’s not a bear, or a wolf. That looks human to me.”
“No human could have climbed that.”
“Sure they could.”
“I’m going to take a closer look.” Joshua returns to the base of the rock, placing his hand where he believed the man, or creature, or whatever it was, had placed its hands. There is nowhere for him to gain a foothold at that level. “Give me a push up,” he commands. Boyd steps forward, places his shoulder for Joshua to step up on. He hoists himself to the ledge, noticing the scratched marks that correspond with fingers where the hand would have gripped the rock. He makes his next move to climb up the rock, but has to reach to the full extent of his height, then reach his arm to its full extent, to even touch the next handhold. Realising climbing upwards is impossible, he jumps down. “There’s no way I can climb that.”
“But it went up.”
“None of this makes sense.”
“None of it is helping us find Kyla.”
“Or Sam.”
“I’m going back down.”
“We can’t leave her out overnight!”
“We don’t have a choice. It’s not safe for any of us to stay here longer. We’re not equipped for it and there’s a storm blowing in.” Josh makes eye contact with each of the group. “Agreed?”
Mumbled agreement and the men turn to set off back down the hill, following the narrow track through dense woodlands.
***
As they turn, the leaves of nearby trees shiver, and the creatures that had watched from among their branches, leap to the ground.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The narrow track opens out to the less densely overgrown area of forest, and a rustle of leaves to Rachel’s right is followed by creaking and the snapping of twigs. Leaves shiver on a nodding branch and a squirrel glides to a neighbouring tree. It lands, chittering in a fury, and a flurry of red fur.
Stupid squirrel!
“This forest gives me the willies.” Boyd throws her a frown. “It gives me the creeps.” He merely fingers the strap of the rifle slung across his shoulder. “I guess we’re all on edge,” she tries again.
“Sure.”
“Or is it that you’re just pissed off about something else?” she prods.
“For crying out loud, woman!” he hisses. “I’m trying to listen. You just don’t know when to stop, do you!
“Sorry for asking!”
A thud followed by a grunt drowns out Rachel’s words and her jaw snaps shut as beyond Boyd’s angry face, Joshua disappears beneath a mass of muscle and fur and snapping jaws.
“What!”
Boyd swings his rifle at the writhing mass. He fires, hitting the creature that has Joshua in its grip, but it makes not impact, and Joshua’s scream of terror is quickly silenced as he is dragged into the undergrowth. Gunshot fires again as Boyd follows the disappearing shape, then swings the rifle in an arc, checking between the trees.
“He’s gone!”
“Get after it!”
Three men push through the undergrowth, but there is no sign of Joshua or the hideous creature that had attacked him.
“What in God’s name was that?”
“Had to be a bear!”
“That weren’t no bear.”
Rifles swing, following any movement. A scream erupts and the guard at the back of the group disappears, yanked through the bushes.
Uncomprehending fear is etched onto each face as Boyd shouts, “Get behind me!”
Taking backward steps from the scuffed earth and bloodied foliage where Joshua had been attacked, a tree shivers, and a flash of brown is accompanied by a thud as another creature hits the forest floor unseen. As the men swing to locate the creature, it lands on Michel’s back. Sharp claws dig deep into his chest, and fangs sink into his neck. Boyd fires. The bullet misses, and bark splinters at the beast’s side. Its face contorts into a threatening sneer and, fangs anchored in Michel’s flesh, it drags him into the forest.
“Christ’s sake!”
Shock erupts as angry shouts.
“Did you see it?”
“Where the hell did it go?”
“It ate him! It fucking ate him!”
“Shut up!”
“Did you see it? It was a woman!”
“No fucking way that was a woman!”
“It had tits!”
“There are two! That one was different from the one that got Joshua!”
“Oh, Jesus! Mary mother of God what the fuck is going on?”
“Shut up!” Boyd repeats. “And listen!”
Silence falls among the group, and the noise in the forest ebbs to nothing.
“That’s what I saw on the beach!”
“Shh!”
“It’s what was in the box!”
“Christ sake woman,” Boyd hisses. “Shut up!”
She quiets, focusing on the noise of the forest; branches crack as the trees sway, leaves whish, whish, as the wind blows through them, and someone screams.
“Joshua!” The agony of his cry melts into Rachel’s bones.
His cries are followed by an unearthly howl that is joined by another voice. The noise bounces off the trees, and grows to a cacophony that seems to come from every direction. Shadows thicken beneath the trees as dark clouds shift above the forest, and ferns and moss darken against blackening trunks, the cries, and howls, fade, then stop. Rachel’s heart trips a hard and painful beat.
“Have they gone?”
Ignoring her, Boyd circles, twisting three-hundred and sixty degrees with his rifle at his shoulder, the barrel pointing into the trees, his finger resting on the trigger. In silence, he beckons for them to move on. They walk in silence, each man alert and continuously scanning the surrounding forest as they make their way down the hill. As minutes, then an hour passes, the forest becomes a repeating pattern of trees, moss, ferns, and undergrowth, the only indicator of progress back to the lodge, the steep decline of the land.
They continue to walk, still alert. The sound of running water indicates a stream ahead. “That stream goes all the way down to the lodge,” Rachel informs Boyd. “All we have to do is follow it down and we’ll be safe!”
Encouraged by her words, the men pick up pace.
“There’s a birdwatching hide around here too, and a lake.”
“Okay, but let’s just focus on the stream and getting to the lodge.”
“I was just saying! Perhaps-”
“Ain’t nowhere safe from those monsters.”
“Let’s just get back to the chopper.”
“Will you take me too?” Thoughts of leaving the island on the helicopter are a huge relief, but her mind trips back to the bear on the beach. Convinced now that the figures she had seen running back into the forest were the same creatures that had killed Joshua, Michel, and Wade, her mind flows freely as it compares the images of the bear with what it imagines has happened to them! What was the word for it? Disembowelled? No, the other one. Ev ... “Eviscerated!” Her churning mind vomits the word.
“What?”
“You got Tourette’s lady?”
“Shut the hell up!”
“Sorry!”
Rachel’s mind continues to churn. She is now certain that the creatures that attacked them in the woods were the same that had killed the bear, and perhaps the female that had attacked Michel was the same as the one in Chris’ video. That they are not wolves, not any kind she has seen before, is also certain. A word creeps into her mind that she pushes away. Ridiculous! She tries to focus on the facts once more; one of ‘them’ had been in the box on the beach. The men who had come to rescue her had taken it and Peter, ergo they had specifically come to retrieve Peter and the box, and not the plane’s survivors. Peter’s destination had not been the lodge, ergo, he was somewhere on the island with the box, and its contents. Werewolves. No! Peter was a scientist who worked with animals. He had slipped when he mentioned the Institute, and had failed to cover his tracks, which meant he was in on it too! Werewolves! No, Rachel. Yes! No!
“Werewolves!” She clamps her jaws together. Idiot!
“What?”
“They’re werewolves. The creatures that attacked Joshua and Michel are werewolves.”
Boyd shakes his head., and Craig frowns then looks away.
“Okay, so not the kind that can be killed by silver bullets, but didn’t you see how much like people they looked?”
“It looked more like a sasquatch.”
“There are scientists on this island! Peter was one of them. He’s involved too. They’re experimenting on wolves. Perhaps they’re splicing their DNA with humans. They’re doing it in Japan! A scientist called Nakauchi is doing it! He’s creating animal embryos that contain human cells and then placing them into a surrogate! The government gave the go-ahead this year.” Boyd’s glance at her is scathing, but she continues. “Oh ... my ... God! And they’re planning to transplant the organs that grow in these hybrid animals into humans! What if ... what if that’s what the institute is doing? Growing animal-human hybrids? And do you know why there is so much resistance to it?
“My God woman, shut up!
“No, listen to her.”
“Because, obviously there are massive ethical considerations, but what they’re really afraid of is that the human cells might stray beyond the development of the targeted organ, and travel to the developing animal’s brain, and affect its cognition, how it thinks!”
“Seriously? They’re doing that?”
“How do you know all of this?”
“Yes! And because I was doing research into it last year. I’m an investigative journalist.”
“She could be right.”
“Quiet!”
“Listen up, lady. There ain’t no such thing as werewolves, and there ain’t no institute on this island. I’ve been hunting for the past twenty-years or more, and what I saw was some sort of a bear. S
ure it was mangey, and kind of skinny, but it was a bear all the same.”
“But you saw it! That wasn’t a bear. No way.”
“It weren’t no werewolf!” Boyd insists. “Now, pipe down and let’s get out of this forest.”
“It could be some sort of fucked-up hybrid! The woman could be right.”
As Boyd shakes his head, and tells the group to ‘Quit talking!’ once more, a piercing yowl erupts, so close that it that scratches at Rachel’s eardrum. In the next second a figure lands in front of her, cutting her off from Boyd. Towering above Rachel, the male, obvious from the naked genitals dangling from a mass of swirling pubes, stares directly at her. Boyd screams unseen as she locks eyes with the muscular beast. Craig is toppled from his feet, landing with a thud as a large female, straddles him, naked buttocks pushing down against his belly, her claws holding his arms to the floor. Rachel backs up as the huge male advances. The grunts of Craig’s struggle, and Boyd’s screams, fill her ears, but her focus is on the beast in front of her; she recognises him. “Joshua!” The beast’s eyes flicker, and a clawed hand reaches forward. In the next second, he is thrown to the ground as another male bowls into him, landing with enormous force against his side. Joshua slams into a tree with a grunt. As he recovers, the new male leaps forward, pinning Rachel to the ground. As its jaws open to bite into her, it is dragged back and thrown to the forest floor.
The two males turn on each other.
As the two huge males roll on the forest floor, clawing, biting, and tearing at each other, Rachel realises she is alone. Boyd and Craig have been attacked and the only evidence they had been with her only seconds ago is Craig’s torn shirt and Boyd’s rifle. As the males continue to thrash and snarl, she grabs Boyd’s rifle and crawls commando-style into the undergrowth.
To the background of vicious growls, thuds, and grunts, Rachel crawls through the scrubby trees, ignoring the branches tearing at her face and catching on her clothes. Fingers wrapped around the rifle’s barrel, she focuses on the forest ahead, heart ripping in her chest. Somewhere ahead is the stream that runs down to the lodge, if only she can find it and make her way down, she can escape on one of the boats.
The Kielder Experiment (Book 2): The Alaska Strain Page 18
