Mega 4: Behemoth Island

by Jake Bible

  “You didn’t happen to see a giant ape thing come roaring past here, did you?” Ballantine asked. “Apparently we have a Jekyll and Hyde situation and the Hyde is, well, hiding.”

  “Yeah, I fucking saw the gorilla,” Cougher said. “I was standing here and it came crashing down the passageway. It was about to break in here, shouting about taking the ship for itself or something. I yelled that the engines were hit by an EMP and we didn’t have the parts to fix them so it could have the fucking ship, for all I cared.”

  “You yelled all that before it had a chance to rip your arms off?” Ballantine said.

  “I may have hit it with a wrench,” Cougher said. “It was a really big wrench. The thing sniffed the air and seemed to believe me. I think it was going to tear me apart anyway, but then it lifted its head like it heard something and took off that way.”

  Cougher pointed down the passageway at the continuation of destruction.

  “This is really going to be a bitch to fix, Ballantine,” Cougher said. “I hope you plan on making the rest of the crew handle it. I’m still working on salvaging what I can from the engines, I don’t have time to knock dents out of the walls.”

  “Not to worry,” Ballantine said, clapping Cougher on the shoulder. “You just focus on what you’re doing. Carry on.”

  “Fucking whacko,” Cougher muttered as he closed the hatch.

  Ballantine turned to Carlos and Moshi.

  “I think we need to get above decks,” Ballantine said. He looked at the cannon. “You two good to bring this up top?”

  “No,” Carlos said. “Even with the hydraulic lifters, this thing is a bitch to maneuver. I thought we would shoot it a couple times and be done. I do not want to lug this all over the ship.”

  “Is there anything more manageable?” Ballantine asked. “Perhaps a portable version back in the Toyshop?”

  Carlos frowned at the use of the word Toyshop. Moshi only shook her head.

  “That’s unfortunate,” Ballantine said.

  There were several loud thunks and the ship shuddered slightly. Ballantine, Carlos, and Moshi all looked up at the ceiling, listening to the new development. After a few minutes, there were some sharp bangs and a couple of far-off shouts.

  “Flash bangs,” Ballantine said. “We’ve been boarded.”

  “Boarded? By whom?” Carlos asked.

  “I’m guessing by whoever was on that ship coming towards us,” Ballantine said. He smacked his forehead. “I knew I was forgetting something. That giant ape really smacked me around. I’m going to need a long soak in a tub and a nap to get my bearings straight again.”

  Moshi nodded.

  “I know, right?” Ballantine smiled. “Doesn’t a soak sound wonderful?”

  More bangs, more shouts, but closer.

  “Well, they’re below decks now,” Ballantine said. “We should really go introduce ourselves before they find us and a horrible accident happens.”

  Moshi squeaked a little.

  “Not to worry, Moshi,” Ballantine said. He draped an arm across her shoulders and steered her back towards the stairs. “Stick with me and you’ll be fine.”

  “What about me?” Carlos snapped.

  “With your attitude?” Ballantine replied, shaking his head. “Not sure what’s going to happen to you.”

  “You are such an asshole, Ballantine,” Carlos grumbled.

  “That’s what I have been told,” Ballantine said.

  Even more bangs and shouts.

  “Man, they should all relax,” Ballantine said. “We’re actually reasonable people once you get to know us, right Moshi?”

  Moshi nodded as they ascended the stairs.

  ***

  Popeye stared at the deck of the Beowulf III and shook his head.

  “The place is a fucking mess,” he said. “Who has been in charge while I was gone?”

  “We’ve all chipped in to help,” Kinsey said, her hands restrained behind her back by zip ties. Her face was puffy and both lips were split. She had a nasty burn mark on her right cheek and her shoulders were hunched forward like she was in pain. She coughed and winced before continuing. “Mostly it’s been whatever deckhand Lake can intimidate the most. They just haven’t been motivated since you left.”

  “Damn right,” Popeye said, brandishing his prosthetic leg. “Ain’t no one to threaten to jam this up their asses.”

  “This is a lovely conversation on the finer points of employee motivation, but please shut the hell up, all of you,” Jowarski said.

  He grabbed Kinsey by the arms and shook her. She almost cried out, yet was able to choke it back. Jowarski saw this and shook her again. Hard. Kinsey did cry out that time.

  Standing next to Kinsey was a zip-tied, shell-shocked-looking Ingrid. Her eyes were swollen and she had snot dripping from both nostrils. There weren’t any marks on her, but her body trembled like a kicked dog waiting for the next blow. She leaned her shoulder against Kinsey, her subconscious mind desperate for some kind of protection even if her potential protector was beaten badly and zip tied.

  Men dressed in black body armor swarmed across the deck and filtered down through the hatches to the decks below. Kinsey watched them go and wondered how many Ballantine would kill before he was captured. She hadn’t told Jowarski or Dana where she thought Ballantine would be, ship or island. She didn’t need to. After a few punches and kicks, Ingrid couldn’t stand to watch Kinsey get tortured so she caved, spilling everything she knew.

  It was all over in minutes. That pissed Jowarski off. He looked like his favorite toy had been taken away. He wanted more time to tear the truth out of Kinsey and Ingrid went and ruined that.

  So he got nasty.

  Kinsey had been through worse. Ingrid had not. Glancing at the tech out of the corner of her eye, Kinsey wondered if Ingrid would bounce back. She hoped so. Ingrid was too strong a person deep down to just give in. Fuck that shit.

  Several men came hurrying out of one of the hatchways. The man in front rushed over to Jowarski.

  “We have him,” the man reported. “He was with two nerds. They, uh, got away.”

  “Nerds got away?” Jowarski growled.

  “Sorry, sir,” the man replied.

  “That’s not nice. Nerds are cool,” Ingrid whispered and Kinsey smiled. Yeah, she would be just fine.

  “Whatever,” Jowarski said. “Bring him to me.” He tapped at his ear. “Dana? We have your husband secured. You can come over at your discretion.” He listened for a few seconds and then nodded. “I won’t touch him, I promise.” He gave Kinsey a wink. “You get to take care of him yourself.”

  “You really think you can kill Ballantine?” Kinsey asked. “You’re an idiot.”

  “People have said that,” Jowarski replied. “But I am goal oriented. My goal isn’t to kill Ballantine, it’s to present him to his wife so she can kill him. If she asks me to do it for her then so be it.”

  Popeye scoffed.

  “You agree with Ms. Thorne?” Jowarski asked.

  “I agree that you are an idiot, yeah,” Popeye said.

  “Is that so?” Jowarski replied. “Then I guess you were broken by an idiot. So what does that make you?”

  Popeye turned his face away and stared out over the water. He muttered something, but it was lost to the sea wind.

  “No need to be pushy,” Ballantine said as he was led from one of the hatchways. “I am cooperating.” He held up his hands and showed the body-armored men the cuffs he was sporting. “You have me perfectly secured. Big, tough professionals like you shouldn’t be scared of a simple pencil pusher like me. Guys, I’m administration, not operations.”

  “Our men have been fully briefed on your skills, Ballantine,” Jowarski said.

  Ballantine’s entire demeanor changed. The smart ass, devil may care attitude was replaced with pure rage.

  “Oh, this just got very interesting,” Ballantine said, his voice that of a cold, deadly predator. “You should not have come, Chance.
You really, really shouldn’t have come.”

  He glanced over at the ship that was sitting hull to hull with the Beowulf III.

  “Is she with you?” he asked. “Is she, Chance? You brought her along, didn’t you? Man, you are dumber than I thought.”

  “This is her mission, Ballantine,” Jowarski said. “I didn’t bring her, she brought me.”

  Ballantine watched the man for a couple of seconds then nodded.

  “Then where is she?” he asked.

  “On her way,” Jowarski replied.

  Ballantine studied Kinsey, Ingrid, then Popeye.

  “Mr. DeBruhl, it is good to see you amongst the living,” Ballantine said.

  “If you say so,” Popeye replied.

  Ballantine frowned at the answer then looked at Kinsey and Ingrid, especially Ingrid.

  “Ms. Thorne, is our elf going to be alright?” he asked.

  “She is,” Kinsey said. “She’s strong.”

  “I take it Mr. Jowarski was not polite in his behavior,” Ballantine said. It was not a question.

  “Nope,” Kinsey said. “I took most of the impoliteness, but he did save some for Ingrid.”

  “The best for last, you might say,” Jowarski chuckled.

  Ingrid flashed him a look of pure rage and Ballantine smiled.

  “Yes, our elf will be fine,” Ballantine said. Then he studied Popeye some more. “As for our boatswain, I think you may have done some long-term damage. Was it one of your patented mind fucks, Chance? Or did my wife get her claws in him too? Did she use that machine of hers?”

  “Why don’t you ask me?” Dana said as she stepped onto a gangplank that bridged the slight gap between ships. She easily balanced her way over and dropped onto the Beowulf III’s deck, her eyes steely and locked onto Ballantine. “It is good to see you, Ballantine.”

  “Even your wife calls you by your last name?” Kinsey asked. “Classic.”

  “I know, right?” Ballantine laughed. “I’m a man of great mystery and intrigue.” He cleared his throat and bowed slightly to Dana. “Hello, my love. You are supposed to be dead. That was part of the bargain. You being here now means you broke our bargain.”

  “Oh, here it comes!” Dana exclaimed. “Deals and bargains and contracts! Every damn time with you, Ballantine! Every damn time! You know what? Life changes! People change! And when you decide to wipe out the company and take things over for yourself, without even giving me the courtesy of a heads up, then bargains change!”

  “You were dead,” Ballantine stated. “I can’t give a dead person a heads up.”

  “Oh, bullshit!” Dana shouted. It was loud enough to make even Jowarski flinch. “You knew I wasn’t dead! You knew exactly where I was at all times!”

  “With him,” Ballantine said, turning his attention to Jowarski. “We’ll come back to that, Chance. Don’t you worry.”

  “Not worried at all,” Jowarski replied. “No need to be. Endgame is over, Ballantine. You failed. In order for your plan to work, you needed to kill us all. Leaving even one splinter of one division was failure. Guess what? You failed!”

  “Yep,” Ballantine nodded. “I failed.”

  Jowarski coughed and looked puzzled. “What was that? Did you agree with me?”

  “I did,” Ballantine said. “I let my emotions overrule common sense. I should have started with you and your division. But I decided to wait and leave you for last. My mistake.”

  “Yes…your mistake,” Jowarski said.

  “What now?” Ballantine asked. “You put a bullet in my head?”

  “Not yet,” Dana said. “The assets of yours we know about are probably only a tenth of what you really have. I want names and locations before I put you out of my misery.”

  “Okay,” Ballantine said.

  Dana sighed.

  “Dammit, what do you have up your sleeve?” she asked. “I know you, Ballantine. You have something planned. What is it?”

  “I actually have nothing planned,” Ballantine said. “All plans are done. I’m winging it from here on out. It’s the new Ballantine. Footloose and fancy free.”

  “More bullshit,” Dana grumbled. “You never stop.”

  “If a shark stops, he drowns,” Ballantine said. “And you know how much I love sharks.”

  “That makes no sense,” Jowarski said.

  “Put him over there against that rail,” Dana ordered. “Let him sit in the sun for an hour and then I’ll start my little chat.” She pointed at Popeye. “You! Time to give us the tour of this ship.”

  “Are you a tour guide now, Popeye?” Ballantine asked.

  “Yeah,” Popeye said. “I guess I am.”

  “Be sure and show them the mess,” Ballantine said. “And perhaps the Toyshop? The elves have done some great things to it. Can you do that, Popeye?”

  “The Toyshop is your armory, right?” Jowarski asked. “Nice try, Ballantine. I’ll send some of my men down there on their own. No need for Mr. DeBruhl to waste his time.”

  Ballantine shrugged.

  “What about these two?” Jowarski asked, yanking Kinsey’s arm almost out of the socket.

  “Leave them up here,” Dana said. “But nowhere near Ballantine. Keep them on opposite sides of the ship.”

  “You heard her,” Jowarski said to the men that stood guard. “And make sure they don’t talk to each other.”

  “Mr. DeBruhl?” Dana said. “After you.”

  Popeye sighed and limped over to the main hatchway. He glanced over his shoulder at Kinsey and Ingrid then Ballantine. Ballantine responded with a huge smile. Popeye shook his head then was quickly lost from sight.

  As soon as Dana and Jowarski were gone, Kinsey looked over at Ballantine. His eyes were averted, looking off into space. But Kinsey knew the man well enough to realize he was telling her something. She rolled her head on her neck and casually looked at the other ship, but not in the direction Ballantine was looking. She made a point of specifically looking in the opposite direction.

  For a brief second, she thought the beatings and hot sun were making her hallucinate. But considering all the crazy shit she’d seen since becoming a part of Team Grendel, a huge gorilla with tattered clothes plastered to its hairy body wasn’t exactly out of the realm of possibility. In the time it took her to comprehend what she saw, the thing was lost from sight, gone into the belly of the other ship.

  Kinsey looked back at Ballantine and that time he was staring right at her. His huge grin was even huger.

  But it faltered at the sound of several loud roars that came from the island. All eyes, even the guards’, looked across the bay with its perpetually schooling fish things, and watched as far off trees shuddered and shook. Huge red birds circled above the jungle, darting down now and again, screeching their prehistoric screeches.

  “You know what?” Ballantine said to the guards. “If you guys are looking for new employment, keep me in mind.” He nodded towards the island. “I really do know how to keep the workplace from being boring.”

  ***

  “Son of a fuck!” Thorne shouted as he pulled the trigger on the plasma rifle again and again, turning one of the twelve-foot dinosaurs that chased them into a pulpy splat against the wall of ferns to Team Grendel’s left. “I really hate dinosaurs!”

  On his other side stood Darby, her plasma rifle barking as well. A second dino then a third became bloody gunk. She looked down at her energy readings and snarled.

  “Almost out again,” Darby said.

  Thorne fired off three bolts before checking his. “Yeah, same here.”

  Behind them, Darren and Shane carried a makeshift stretcher that held Lucy. Her eyes were bright and she held her own hands to her neck, but her skin was almost pure white and her lips had a bluish tinge to them.

  “You okay, Luce?” Shane asked, holding the rear of the stretcher. “You hang on, okay?”

  Lucy gave him a weak smile.

  Behind the stretcher were Mike and Max. Mike had his plasma rifle up,
but Max held a sawed-off Mossberg pistol grip shotgun, having given his plasma rifle to Thorne. He pumped the shotgun and fired, sending a slug into the face of a dinosaur that looked like its teeth could shred an aluminum can as easily as slicing a tomato.

  “What are you grinning at?” Mike asked, firing at another dinosaur, that one about twice the size of the one that Max just relieved of most of its chest. “You think this is fun, don’t you?”

  “I’d need to change professions if I didn’t,” Max said. “And I was grinning because I was remembering that old Ginsu commercial. It slices!” He fired at another dinosaur, shredding half the thing’s face. “It dices!” He fired again, taking off a stubby arm from a raptor-looking thing that had just leapt at him. “It even cuts cans!”

  He flipped the Mossberg around and whacked a second leaping dino like it was a baseball heading over home plate. Max reached into his pockets and started pulling out shells then shoving them into the shotgun’s breach.

  Mike fried a dozen creeper vines that lashed out at his face. Half the jungle to his left seemed to shrink back as if it had been hit. Mike blasted that greenery and suddenly hundreds of vines that had been hanging from branches and clung to trunks slunk away, desperate to get clear of danger.

  “Remind me to tell Ballantine that I am no longer cool with jungle work,” Mike said. “A nice, barren desert would be ideal for our next op. No more greenery.”

  “There’s scary shit in deserts, man,” Max said. He blasted two snake looking things, ripping their bellies open. Whatever they had for their dinners spilled out onto the jungle floor. “But I totally hear you.”

  The Team came to a clearing and Darby halted them briefly. Just for a split second so she could get her bearings. It wasn’t hard since they were still on an incline and they could see the bay in the distance.

  “Is that a second ship?” Darby asked.

  “Yeah,” Thorne said. “We’ll deal with that later.”

  A massive roar shook the jungle and half the dinosaurs that were coming in to attack Team Grendel decided they no longer wanted to be anywhere near the area. They rushed off as fast as their clawed feet would take them.

  “Oh, piss,” Max said. “I think our old buddy is coming to see us off.”