Extinction Island 2

by catt dahman

  “Obviously, it does,” Stu said with a shrug.

  “Where is the rest of the ship?” Scott asked.

  Stu shrugged and said, “I bet it went straight down. I think it was close to five hundred or six hundred feet long. It was huge and full of the ore. People always wondered what caused the vanishings; it’s just a storm,” he said, as he laughed but wasn’t smiling, and his eyes looked dark and dead.

  “This island, it’s just a weird anomaly. We’re the ones in the wrong spot. It’s just us, isn’t it? We are the weird part. We don’t belong,” Alex suggested. His mood was still dark, and Stu’s mood affected him as well. This felt wrong on so many levels, and his mind couldn’t quite come to terms with what he was seeing.

  Scott thought about that, gave Alex a nod, and said, “We sure aren’t going home; that’s for sure. Home isn’t out there. We’re somewhere else.” The idea was as abstract as Scott had ever imagined. It was something he finally had to put into words.

  He watched as other debris floated closer to camp. The waves washed the debris that direction toward the camp instead of farther down where the group was standing. The debris caught his attention, and he wondered about it, thinking that maybe it was part of the Cyclops that was still floating.

  An odor of rot was in the air, not bad yet, but would be stronger soon. The compys would come for the bodies before anyone could bury them; there were just too many dead. This wreckage was too close to camp and might attract the larger predators, but Scott didn’t know what they could do. It was too much.

  “That debris doesn’t look like it’s from the ship, does it?” Tyrese noted as he watched some trash drift to the camp’s beach.

  At camp, several people walked close to the water’s edge to see the debris, wondering what it was.

  Tyrese didn’t think it was good for them to see a bunch of bodies, but that rubbish looked different.

  “It doesn’t look like the ship, either. That looks like...what...trees? Bushes? Why would that be washing up?” Scott tried to see what it was. For some reason, he felt chilled even though the sun was bright, hot, and searing.

  Tom and Davey started back to camp. They talked as they watched the debris; it bothered them, as well. Davey felt nervous not only because of the bodies and because of the scavengers that would come, but also because this feeling was a different kind of anxiety.

  “It was a storm, so maybe parts of the island were blown out to sea by the wind and now are returning,” Davey said. He had to change the topic, or he’d feel more depressed.

  “That’s smart. I bet you’re right,” Tom said.

  “Those trees look funny from here. I’ve never seen any like those here.”

  “They’ve been tossed around; that is all.”

  Tyrese heard them as he caught up; he squinted and added, “No, they look funny. I have a weird feeling. Does it look wrong to anyone else?”

  “Yeah, it does,” Scott said. He was almost glad someone else felt the same as he did. He gave Davey a pat on the back as they walked. He and Davey never had been close friends before the wreck, but now, Scott trusted him with his life.

  Stu and Alex still looked at the wreckage of the Cyclops.

  Davey yelled, “All of you need to come on before the troodons return.”

  Scott chuckled.

  “Oh, look, Kelly has Amanda on her feet again. I’ve been hoping Amanda would be okay,” Davey pointed. “Tom, your mother is helping her.”

  “Finally. She’s doing something worthwhile.” Tom watched her and grimaced.

  Scott and Tyrese walked past Tom and Davey and stared at their camp, seeing the debris that had landed on the shore.

  Scott blinked and said, “I need glasses; I swear I saw something; what was it?” He didn’t have the words. To him, the trash seemed to ripple and undulate. It wiggled. It had to be the twigs and leaves caught in the wind and water.

  Tom’s mother, Connie, screamed so loudly that birds in the jungle took flight, and lizards ducked under logs. She held the scream, never taking another breath, just letting it climb. Tom ran, except slower and off balance because of his missing arm, but he ran. The others ran ahead.

  Alex and Stu were farther behind but moved rapidly, flying across the sand to get to camp.

  Chapter 10:Death by Debris

  Minutes before at the water’s edge, Amanda and Connie had looked at the junk and tried to see what it was other than some branches, a few trees, enormous palm-like leaves, and bark.

  Each tree was as big around as a heavy man and very tall, but few had escaped being splintered into smaller sections. Amy and her mother, Jada, went to look at the debris as well, and Jada laughed as she said that maybe a huge crate of excellent coffee had washed up. It was the first time she showed any mirth since washing ashore in her own boat wreck.

  Something moved within the junk and moved without the influence of the water, and for a few seconds, the women thought maybe a survivor was there, caught in the brush. It could be that a dinosaur or a small animal was caught in the vines. Despite knowing better, Jada had a thought that it could be her husband, who was lost at sea or maybe one of the crew from their boat.

  “Coffee?” asked Air Marshal Lynn, looking up, amused.

  “Maybe,” Jada said.

  “That don’t look right,” Mick said. He gave Air Marshal Lynn a nod to say he’d go check it out.

  “Hey, let’s back away and watch to see what it is. Maybe there are critters floating along. Something is moving there,” Lynn said.

  “They need help,” Amy said. She moved closer. “It’s a survivor from one of the wrecks, maybe. He needs some help.”

  “No,” Mick said, “don’t go any closer. Something’s off.”

  Joe was cooking a meal over the fire, but he stopped his work and stood. Along with the cooking, he was organizing and testing their supply of alcohol and deciding which tasted the best with the syrup he was cooking, as per Kelly’s instructions. The mixture was something for sore throats and coughs. He was glad that one of the airplanes that crashed had been carrying large supplies to a resort.

  Air Marshal Lynn began walking toward the water. He had a strange feeling, and something in Mick’s voice sounded wrong. He almost felt the mood change as several people became more alert and concerned. Jada wasn’t worried, but Mick’s voice was different. Joe’s eyes narrowed with apprehension.

  Amanda almost yanked Connie off her feet as she struggled to get in front of Amy and wait for Mick.

  Once she would have faced this alone, but after she was injured by dinosaur claws and then was stitched and cauterized, she needed help in case of some kind of danger.

  Amanda already had seen the sinuous, slithery, sneaky movements, and as soon as she pushed in front of everyone else, the creatures, hiding among the logs and leaves, surged.

  Amanda struggled to move quickly as she cried out, and her injured, scarred back felt as if it were covered in sore, leather straps. Her movements took more energy and force now since she had lost her speed and grace.

  Describing the creatures was almost impossible. Each had six little ‘spiderish’ legs and a fat and oily, flesh-colored segmented body. Each creature was the size of a dinner plate. Little clear tails, small in comparison to their bodies, curled from their rears. The face, if that was what it was, seemed mushy and difficult to discern. There was no mouth or nose, but several pairs of black eyes sparkled and glittered. Some of the time, they rippled, skittered, and slid, instead of using their legs.

  Amanda thought of ticks, slugs, and spiders.

  “What are they?” Amy asked.

  Amanda didn’t know what they were but thought they might be prehistoric. She pushed Amy back and said, “We need to back away.” She tried to push the others back, but her timing was slow.

  Connie was farther away from Amanda but closest to the debris. A creature slid up Connie’s ankle to her calves, enveloping them. She screamed in fear and disgust first and then with pain. Had sh
e seen flame and smoke coming from the slug, she wouldn’t have been shocked because her lower leg felt just like red-hot coals covered it.

  A split second later, Amanda screamed as she felt her foot begin to ache and burn as if acid had been poured on her skin. She tried to stay calm, but this pain was too intense. It was worse than fire coral or anything else Amanda knew about from swimming in the ocean. Her flesh started to dissolve as she kicked at the creature.

  Amanda, bending over to get the creature off her leg, had planned to scrape the mass away, but her back, covered by healing keloid scars, didn’t bend, so she lost her balance and fell.

  Another creature ran or slithered for her face, and when Amanda ducked, the little beast slid onto her back. Amanda let loose with whooping screams, surpassing Connie’s shrieks.

  Amy squealed. She realized that the creatures were attacking and she was next.

  They were too close, and she wasn’t brave enough to help Amanda, so she tried to back away. There was no way she could have made it to safety since two of the slugs slid and scuttled faster than she could back pedal.

  Jada took one step and was suddenly between the creatures and her daughter. “Run, Amy.”

  Before she could follow her daughter, Jada saw that her own legs were covered by two of the fast creatures. She reached for the blobs, yanking at them, and her screams were wilder as she bucked and rolled on the beach, both of her feet and hands were covered by the secretions of the slugs.

  No more than a few seconds had passed.

  Mick was the closest since he had been trying to get the women to wait until they could find out what was in the debris, but he hadn’t expected an attack. He was only being cautious.

  He reached for the blob on Amanda’s back, but it used its legs like pitons and latched on. A slimy, white ooze from its belly quickly ran over her skin like snot. The secretion dissolved her flesh, muscle, and scar tissue and then began on the bones, but with a bit more difficult.

  Mick grabbed the blob, determined to break it loose, but the oozing, soft segments released more of the slime, blistering his hands at once. He jumped back, screaming with pain as the skin of his palms melted or peeled away in liquid-like strips. His flesh turned to something like melted wax and dripped to the sand. “Acid. Oh, shit, acid,” his voice rose as he spun in place. “Burninggggggggggg.”

  With a bat in his hands, Air Marshal Lynn ran to kill it and yelled, “Sorry, Amanda.” He hit the creature still attached to Amanda. The good part was that he killed the beast.

  The bad part was that as he hit the blob, it popped like a pustule of fat infection, and the stringy, oozing, clearish-white fluid flew up and covered Lynn’s upper face and arms. A few spots hit his neck. Despite his strength, the pain sent him reeling. He couldn’t think past the pain.

  Along with the horror of the fluid covering Lynn, the creature didn’t fall away from Amanda. It was dead but unable to slurp up the liquid with its series of mouths on the underside, so the ooze continued to consume her flesh.

  Kelly had been using a bottle of vodka to clean a few scratches on John Littleton. As soon as the attack began, she tossed her bottle to Stu and grabbed another. She streaked across the sand, running to splash Air Marshal Lynn’s face as Alex and Harold held him down on his back, yelling for someone to bring liquor.

  In a time before most of the dinosaurs had evolved, these creatures lived, fed, reproduced, and died in the vegetation of the jungles. When a reptile came close, they swarmed it and fed, sucking the acid-burned flesh away from bones. They had no real intelligence, a short life span, and often starved to death. They were an old species that left no fossil records and were of little importance.

  Until now.

  Joe carried the left over rum from the concoction he had been testing and splashed some onto Amanda’s back, as she fought to get the blob off of her back. If anyone had time to ask Joe why, he wouldn’t have known why he did that, but he reacted instinctively, knowing that possibly he could set the blob on fire with the alcohol. It was all he had in his hands, and he did it without thinking.

  As Joe watched, the reaction from the creature to the alcohol was unexpected but promising. The creature shriveled up to a wet husk and fell off at once. It was dead as far as he could tell.

  He saw Amanda’s back and was horrified by the damage, but didn’t hesitate to keep trying to save his friend. He splashed her leg and killed a second slug. He yelled, “Grab the booze. Get a red-hot log, too.”

  It was the first time Joe had ever led a defense, and surprisingly, his voice was calm, yet it carried loudly over the screaming and made everyone pay attention. He was doing his best, and it was an excellent defensive maneuver; he only hoped people could react calmly and quickly.

  Scott, Tyrese, and Davey arrived during the mayhem: hearing what Joe yelled and seeing what he did. They knew he was correct in his orders and took action at once. They reacted: Davey grabbed a smoking hot log by the unburned end, and Scott and Tyrese each grabbed a bottle of whiskey and ran faster than they had ever moved before.

  Scott used half his bottle for Connie’s leg; relieved that it worked as it had for Joe and Amanda. “Joe’s right. Alcohol works.”

  Tom ran up, and with his one arm, he caught his mother as she fell. His girlfriend, Joy, ran to them. She had been on the far side of camp, and although she was terrified, she came to help.

  Everything was in chaos, and Joy and Tom could hardly think, but they knew Scott had done something to help Connie.

  Connie was hysterical over something real and worth being half-insane about. Both Tom and Joy felt scared for Connie as she slumped.

  Scott was caught in the confusion, wondering what to do next. He was repulsed by the creatures, scared, and helpless. The group needed to fight back in an organized way, but he didn’t know what else to do.

  Tyrese caught another one of Kelly’s bottles as she tossed it and splashed the contents on Jada’s legs and chest and the slugs. She was writhing on the sand, past screaming. He felt a wave of guilt for adding to her pain, but when the creature died, he knew he had done all he could do.

  “I need help, Scott,” said Tyrese.

  Helping to pin Jada down, Scott used the rest of his bottle to wash the stuff off of her hands, but at same time, kept himself from being covered in the goo. He did his best and was thorough, but he was petrified that Jada might grab him and get the slime on him, and then he would burn from the acid. He dodged her flailing arms but worked to save her with the alcohol.

  Only Tyrese’s presence kept Scott from losing his mind and running away with fear. He felt a part of a strong force that could save Jada.

  “That’s it,” Tyrese said.

  A drop of goo hit Scott’s arm, and he almost screamed as a pencil eraser-sized hole burned in his arm. He steeled himself and poured the last few drops from the bottle on his arm. As bad as his pain was, considering his small wound, Scott didn’t know how anyone who really was burned could still be alive. How did anyone stand the pain of being partially engulfed? Didn’t people die from sheer pain?

  “They’re dead,” said Tyrese.

  Scott blinked and realized Tyrese meant the slugs, not the injured people.

  “You okay?” Tyrese nodded to the burn Scott had suffered.

  “Oh, yeah. It’s nothing compared to…I’m fine. Damn, Ty. I’m glad you’re here.”

  Tyrese’s hands shook, and he shivered all over as he said, “Hell, Scott, I’m glad you are here. I couldn’t have done it alone.”

  Davey poked the other creatures with the burning log, watching them shrivel and fall apart. They fell into the leaves and looked like part of the debris. He went after some more of the slugs before they attacked the people who were trying to save the wounded victims. “Burn the rest of the creatures. I have them backing off. They don’t like liquor, and they don’t like fire.”

  Joe yelled, “Burn ‘em.”

  Mick screamed, but Davey was too busy burning other creature
s. Scott and Tyrese dropped their empty bottles and grabbed the ends of burning logs to use the fire to burn the creatures, crisping them before they could attack.

  There were two dozen more to kill, enough to kill each person on the beach in a most horrific manner. That idea made the men, scared of being swarmed brutally, attack the slugs.

  Kelly had been using a bottle of vodka to clean a few scratches on John Littleton. As soon as the attack began, she tossed her bottle to Stu and grabbed another. She streaked across the sand, running to splash Air Marshal Lynn’s face as Alex and Harold held him down on his back, yelling for someone to bring liquor.

  Kelly yelled, “Hold him so the goo doesn’t spread. I have this.”

  “We are. We don’t want the goo flying on us,” Alex yelled.

  Kelly splashed, poured, and watched. The strands of goo and blobs shriveled up and stopped burning. Kelly flicked them away and used the vodka to keep cleaning, despite Lynn’s screams. She had to be sure. “Thank God, it works. It really works. I’m so sorry; I know it hurts.”

  Stu panicked and didn’t see a way to help the last victim, Mick, whose hands were burning away. He wanted to help, but Mick was still spinning and running around. In seconds, he might touch someone else with the snotty fluid and burn that person. Stu knew he had a split second to do something.

  Running, Stu used all his strength and tackled Mick. Stu lay across Mick’s back and held his arms straight out, hoping he was strong enough to keep Mick in place. “I need help. Come on, where’s my back-up?”

  Vaughn picked up a bottle and ran, taking it to Stu. While his brother, Stu, held Mick down, Vaughn poured the alcohol but had to stop several times to vomit, and the goo slid to Mick’s elbows.

  Stu snarled, “Get it stopped, or we’re out of here, and he’ll burn away. Do it right, Vaughn, or he’s dead.”

  “Get off my ass.”

  “Do it right.”

  Vaughn braced himself and forced the nausea down. He cleaned Mick’s arms just to above the elbow. Right below the elbow were bright, red and purple, bubbly burns, and lower down the arm, his wrists were nothing but bare, pitted bones. Below that where the attack had started with Mick’s hands, were missing fingers, and thin, brittle sticks of yellow bones.