by catt dahman
Joy moved closer beside Tom, still holding his hand. She traded glances with Kelly. For once, Joy and Kelly had similar concerns as they watched Tom’s brother, Stu.
“Two packs were hunting close to the creek, and Pam ran right into one of them. The rest had to dodge the larger pack as well as the snakes,” said Scott.
Scott glossed over details and made it sound as if Durango and Sue had encountered snakes and died quickly and easily.
Stu didn’t react as expected, but the darkness in his eyes eased back, and he nodded as he took a deep breath and said, “He hasn’t been well since the wreck. The dad I knew would never have blundered into a nest of damned snakes.”
“I doubt he or anyone else would have known there were snakes. Tyrese didn’t expect them,” Scott said.
Stu turned halfway around as his mother let loose with loud braying sobs, maybe the first real non-dramatic tears of her life. It had taken her a few seconds to face the reality of losing Durango, even if he hadn’t been the same since the shipwreck.
For days after the shipwreck, Durango had stared into open space, and then he had started walking again and talking with a heavy slur. Connie had thought he would recover, despite Kelly’s saying he had a serious brain injury.
Standing beside Connie, Stu’s sister, Vera, listened and picked up a small, feathered dinosaur that she was teaching to eat bits of food like a pet bird, and she walked to the other side of the camp, leaving her mother alone.
Vera was trying to learn to use a bow and arrow, but lost interest within a few days. With the loss of her father, she felt farther away from her accustomed social status. Her eyes were shiny with anger and irritation, as she realized she was becoming more powerless.
She knew dinosaurs cared nothing for her temper tantrums and begging. Her brothers cared far less. So her only interest was in the small dinosaur she thought of as a pet bird. Angus was his name.
“I’m awful sorry, Connie. Vera. Tom. Stu. Vaughn. There was nothing we could do,” Tyrese said, “and you know how we loved Durango.”
“Thanks, T, I know,” Tom said, “but I can’t believe there were snakes, too.”
“I think they aren’t common here or at least not like anacondas and pythons, which we have seen before, but something we still have to be aware of. If vipers can be that venomous, then it’s possible…no probable...that there are other snakes here that could be larger and more deadly,” Alex said. “For that matter, even bugs could be dangerous.”
“Thanks for the nightmares, Alex,” said Joy.
“No, don’t be that way, Joy. It’s better we know this. Maybe there was a reason for Dad’s dying. We know now,” said Stu.
Joy and Tom looked at Stu with shock, yet almost since day one, his moods had bounced around. At times, he had been patronizing and at other times, cruel, sneaky, shockingly angry, and even dangerous.
Tom treaded carefully as he said, “Okay, that’s something to consider. Dad would be glad of anything that would help the rest of us.”
“That’s what I meant,” Stu said.
Scott told them the other parts, never focusing on a particular detail. Air Marshal Lynn sat with the rest of his group and hugged Mattie as they learned how RJ and Bobby were killed. “Marshal, they both were heroic, but just didn’t make it.”
“Both?” Lynn asked.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” said Scott.
Mattie spoke up, “All of us survived just fine until we joined your group.” Then, Mattie began to cry.
“I know, and I’m sorry for that,” Scott said. It was true.
Kelly narrowed her eyes and said, “You survived, but medically, all of you were not healthy. You were pale from lack of sunlight and weak and sickly, along with having rashes. You didn’t have any protein.” She didn’t bother listing their oral blisters, often-bruised skin, stomach problems, and headaches. With a pure fruit diet, they had suffered, but seemed to have forgotten that part. “You weren’t doing very well back then.”
“It’s okay, Kelly,” said Scott, knowing she was defending him partly because of the argument between them the morning before. “I’m sorry.”
The air marshal rubbed his face and said, “I’m sorry we snapped at you. Mattie is upset. We all are. We cared deeply about RJ and Bobby, and Shonna…”
Mattie looked up. Shonna had been the woman, no the man; no, she was the transgendered person whom her husband had tossed her away for. Mattie and her husband planned to be divorced when they returned from their trip, but their plane crashed. Both Shonna and Mattie broke up with Mattie’s husband when he left the plane to go live in the caves. Later, the survivors believed the Utahraptors killed Mattie’s husband.
Mattie asked, “Did Shonna die painfully?”
“She was wounded. She lost her hand and was cut on the leg, and I tried to save her, but there wasn’t much I could do,” Davey said.
Mattie nodded. She didn’t wish Shonna pain once she had gotten to know her and found that they were on the same side. They weren’t best friends, but Mattie had liked Shonna.
“She was dead and then alive again,” Benny reminded them.
Helen interrupted, “We thought she was dead because she was shallow breathing and the little cave was so dark.She moaned, and we knew she was alive, barely. Tyrese carried her out of the cave. We were attacked again, and we lost her in the gully when it filled up with water.” Davey gave Helen a thankful look.
Connie walked away to the wreckage of their yacht, Connie Louise, and Tom cried for his father a while. After all of them were calm and Scott’s group had eaten and hydrated themselves, the group let Benny explain about all the bones they found and the theories he had.
Stu asked several questions, but agreed it was all as insane as he had figured. Benny only confirmed the insanity.
“What about water? We still need…”
Stu interrupted Scott to say, “Harold, the marshal and I went and got it. We knew something bad had happened at the creek because of the way it looked.”
The water was cloudy in places because of the fighting in the shallows. In spots, feces, along with rotting pieces of flesh and bones not picked clean, were everywhere, making the water unfit to drink. Deep animal tracks were pressed into the muddy banks, and two ripped up troodon bodies lay at the edge of the water.
“We had to decide if we should go deeper into the jungle or try something else. We followed part of the creek and get this, it wound around and around over rocks and seemed to vanish, but then, as we followed the damp ground, we found a new spring,” Stu explained by drawing in the sand with a stick.
From the rocks, a spring bubbled, ran down a few feet off rocky ledges, and ended as a heavy drop into a pool. The icy cold water was clear and tasted of minerals.
“The spring also twisted back around the pool, and I have a feeling that is what feeds the nasty swamp, which the troodons and Utahraptors like nesting close to. The main pool is nowhere near, though. It’s closer to us than other springs we’ve found.”
Just a little distance down the beach was a slight break in the trees, and not far into the trees was where Stu’s trio ended up, surprised that they could almost see the beach from where they were.
“In two trips, we brought back a lot of water, and the spring was far safer than the other place,” said Stu as he grinned. “We were able to get everyone there to wash off. The ocean water never felt that clean.”
Scott smiled and said, “Smart. It’s lucky to have that spring so close. Yeah. I know. Salt water.”
“You did a good job, Stu,” Scott told him. It was hard to admit, but he needed the group to feel peaceful again. Stu had done a good job in finding water that was closer.
“I always said I could lead if people backed off and let me,” Stu said.
“Tyrese leads us,” Davey argued, feeling nervous about the direction the conversation was taking.
“Not too well, since my father was killed. How many died with Tyrese leading and you lead
ing, Scott? Too many. I’m not blaming you,” said Stu.
“Really? It sure sounds like you just did,” Scott said. At every turn, Stu wanted to argue with him. He meant his compliment of Stu’s discovery of the better spring, and he wanted to work as a team, but the argument was beginning anew.
“I’m saying that too many died. You didn’t do smart things. It sounds like Benny has more sense than anyone does.What’s your opinion, Mr. Littleton?” asked Stu.
“Ummm, I don’t know how things work here. I’m still…well…people were ripped up…like meat…they died,” said Mr. Littleton.
“Exactly, and we don’t want that. Did anyone ask for your input?” asked Scott.
“Tyrese told me to be quiet, actually,” said Littleton.
Stu smiled smugly.
“That’s not fair. We were in a bad spot, and someone had to make tough choices,” Helen said. “Stu, as we recall, Lori died when you were with her. You aren’t perfect.”
“That’s low. You know damn well what happened.”
“Yeah, I know you were attacked and couldn’t fight back. I know someone died. Same thing. The thing is shit happens, no matter what.” Helen turned to Kelly and asked, “How is Tyrese?”
“He’s lucky. Davey cleaned his cuts well, and there’s no sign of infection. Lucky, Mr. Littleton’s ankle isn’t sprained. It’s sore, but there’s no real swelling. You were all lucky.”
Stu, bored with the talking, took his brother Vaughn with him to fish. Harold and Benny’s sixteen-year-old sister, Amy, went with Stu. Despite being bruised and having lost her father in the shipwreck, Amy had a positive attitude and was eager to get into the water and learn how to fish.
The cook was excited about his crab traps and promised a big crab dinner, supplemented with scavenged food. He enjoyed providing the best meals he could under the circumstances and was glad the ocean provided for them. A few squid, some fish, and some shellfish would be just what he needed for a stew, slow cooked for breakfast.
The rest worked to secure the wreckage they called home and check the perimeter. The soil showed signs that the feral children had been there spying on the group and that the compsognathus were there also, watching for spoils.
Benny had a novel idea to set up spears or at least sharp sticks in the sand to discourage blitz attacks. He told the rest that although collecting the spore of big meat eaters was disgusting, it would probably also repel smaller carnivores.
“Nasty. We’re collecting dino poop,” said Tyrese, laughing.
The sky went yellow as the sun set and black-bellied clouds rolled in thickly. Streaks of rain showed on the horizon, and lightning flashed, lighting up the sky over the ocean long before the storm arrived.
Each person in the group stopped at some time and watched the sky with dread and fear. Storms always brought death and more mysteries.
It was a loud, violent storm, and the wind tore at the carefully crafted, woven palm fronds that kept the rain out. The structure shivered and shook in the wind despite its size and weight.
Collected rainwater was always a bonus, but the rain forced everyone to stay inside the wreckage and eat smoked meat and whatever else had already been cooked. In this storm, the rain fell in sheets, making everyone feel damp and miserable.
Stu reminded the group that during storms such as this, shipwrecks appeared on the beach, and pointed out that Littleton and his group was as an example.
“What if I show up a third time?” asked Littleton.
Stu almost laughed but caught himself and frowned, instead. He didn’t know what to think after everything he had witnessed. “Let’s hope not.”
“If I do, I’m going to tell myself to stay out of the damned jungle and watch for snakes.”
They heard a strange, high-pitched whistle over the thunder and wind. It grew into a roar that made several of the survivors dare the rain and winds to move so they could see.
In one of the lightning-lit clouds, a dark shadow raced across the sky, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. The jungle suddenly exploded with light, and the noise became enormous, as if a bomb had gone off somewhere past the spring where they had gotten water before. It was very far away but still bright as it burned.
Helen grabbed Scott and held him as the ground lightly shivered with shock waves. Above the tops of the trees, they could see that a small mushroom cloud rose hundreds of feet in the air. On the wave of air that rushed over the beach was the scent of burning plastic and wood.
“That was an airplane,” Stu said, “and that’s all the fuel burning up.”
“It might have been us,” Mattie whispered.
The air marshal frowned and said, “But it wasn’t, Mattie. We didn’t burn up. It’s okay, Hon. We made it.”
“I think you’re right, Stu. Damn. It must have been a big one. Did you ever know an airliner that big that went missing in The Triangle?” Helen asked.
“No, the marshal and Mattie’s flight…that was the biggest I have ever known of that went missing. Do you remember all the media reports? They talked all the time about it on television.”
“The media said it was a hijacker or something else, but people couldn’t figure out how a jetliner could just vanish like…well, like yours did,” Scott said.
“I remember that,” Helen told Scott.
“You heard about us? Isn’t that weird?” Mattie asked.
“The plane that just crashed has to be bigger than your plane, but how can that be? There is no such thing as bigger than your plane?” Stu asked. “This one that just crashed is larger than any we have ever seen in our time, yet, we will never know anything about it.”
Benny stood with his eyes bright and rain dripping on his face. He was so shocked that he couldn’t get his words out and pointed and slapped his leg, trying to explain, “I get it. It hasn’t vanished yet, but in my world, neither have you or your yacht. That’s a plane that will vanish sometime.”
Scott and Helen stared at him. Stu tried to talk but sputtered instead.
Alex chewed on a piece of smoked meat and frowned, not happy with the theory; it wasn’t complete. A part of the puzzle was missing for him. “Stu, most of the vanishings in the Bermuda Triangle were long ago, right? I mean it did seem that they became fewer as communications improved. The Violet Marie was a fluke. The Connie Louise is a fluke.”
“So?” asked Stu.
“I think when the storms come, they take what they can find at whatever time possible. The storms are hungry,” said Alex.
“You’ve lost it, Alex,” said Stu.
Stu watched the flames and was jolted as more violent noises erupted down the beach. This storm was far worse than all before it, and had their yacht been caught in this one, they’d all have died.
“Mark my words, this place is where the storms collect…specimens…victims…things. I don’t like it. I have a very bad feeling. I think the storms can pick times and do as they wish,” said Alex.
“It isn’t alive, Alex,” Helen said.
“I don’t know what it is. Alive. Sentient. A natural phenomenon. We don’t understand, but face it, they aren’t friendly,” Alex said.
Chapter 9:Aftermath
In the morning, eating and getting camp chores done was difficult because everyone could see new things from the wrecks left by the storm on the beach. Often, they stopped to look down the beach and across the sand, wondering what the objects were. The beach was littered, and debris danced on the waves, washing in slowly.
“I can’t stand it. I have to know. It may not be safe, so I’m not asking for anyone to go with me,” Scott said.
“I want to go,” said Benny.
“No,” said Scott, giving Benny a serious, fatherly look. “I know you’re mature, but you still have to learn how to fight, and we need to teach you more.”
Tyrese, Alex, Scott, Stu, Davey, and Tom decided they would go. It was the most Tom had offered to do since losing his arm.
There was wreckage to
explore, and on the waves, another pile of debris floated closer to the beach. In the trees, the airplane that crashed was still burning its fuel, making it impossible for anyone to have survived. As long as the wind stayed as it was, the fire wouldn’t be a problem.
“I do want to see that wreckage,” Alex said.
“It’ll burn for days,” said Benny.
“I know, but we have time. Maybe we can find out the flight; I’m curious”
The six were well armed and prepared for a fight if there were one. “Oh, shit, Scott…”said Alex as he stopped walking and talking and stared. Alex saw bodies on the sand.
“That isn’t right,” Stu said. He saw the bodies, too, and the strange-looking clothing perplexed him. He struggled to figure it out.
There were warped or broken boxes, long slivers of metal, a few big sections of a ship, and other debris: socks, plastic cups, a comb, wires, and equipment. There had to be at least fifty bodies on the sand. Most of them were torn and twisted into horrible shapes, with some piled high by the waves that washed them in.
“Look at that life jacket,” Scott said as he pointed.
“I see it,” Alex said.
“Enlighten me?” Tyrese asked. “Damn, so many dead…”
“Over three hundred, actually,” Stu said quietly. “Scott, as a history teacher, you know this story, I think.”
“You know how many?” Davey asked.
“I know the death count was over three hundred and that the ship was enormous, a cargo ship full of manganese ore. I know it vanished in maybe 1920, give or take a few years. I can’t think straight,” Stu muttered.
“1920?” asked Scott while frowning.
“Close,” said Stu.
Alex rubbed his eyes. “The Cyclops. Yeah. Barbados. What the hell is it doing here? Holy shit. The Cyclops? What is it doing…”
“Same thing we are. It isn’t doing anything; the ship is just here, like we are,” said Stu, looking much paler than usual.
“But Benny is right. It doesn’t fit because the shipwreck was early in the twentieth century. The plane that crashed and is still burning has to be from a later time. Does time here just jump around?” Alex asked.
