by Mark Robson
The raptor to the right of the professor was mouthing something. It looked as if it was saying, ‘Ssssaaammm.’
Callum was right. It was Nipper. And the other raptor was Grunt. How they had obtained white coats and got here Sam could not begin to guess and he didn’t care. Nipper and Grunt looked poised for action. Whatever they were about to do was likely to get all of them into even more trouble with the Imperium. The two raptors would most likely become outlaws if they defied the raptor High Council. Why were they willing to risk so much to help them?
Sam got to his feet. Callum did the same. The professor was still in mid-rant when Nipper gave him a hefty shove in through the doorway. The tall man cried out as he tripped and fell across the threshold. Nipper stepped forward to block the doorway and beckoned to the two boys.
‘Come,’ he said clearly.
The boys did not need telling twice. They were past the professor through the door in a flash. Grunt swept Callum up and tucked him under his arm. Nipper did the same with Sam. He keyed the door and it hissed closed, sealing the professor inside. Without pause, the two raptors set off down the corridor.
Being carried across an open beach by a raptor was one thing, but Sam soon discovered that being carried along a narrow corridor at a raptor’s sprinting speed was mind-blowing. Doors blurred past as the two creatures powered up to an all-out sprint. Somewhere in the building a muted warbling alarm began and Sam’s heart sank. How did Nipper intend to escape? Surely they were as badly placed now as they had been in the reception hall when they had been surrounded and taken captive?
The end of the corridor was approaching at an alarming rate and Sam felt Nipper’s balance shift as he began to decelerate for the turn into the intersecting passage. Grunt and Callum were still slightly ahead as they reached the junction, though Nipper had closed the gap. Sam momentarily saw two raptors in white coats appear in front of them. To Sam’s amazement, Grunt didn’t hesitate. The raptor lowered his head and slammed into the nearest one, cannoning it into the second and sending both to end in a tangled heap on the floor. The crunching impact sounded brutal, yet aside from slowing a little to allow Nipper to take the lead, Grunt appeared unhurt.
As Nipper passed Grunt, Sam caught a glimpse of Callum’s terrified expression. His friend was holding his glasses in place with one hand and he had a handful of Grunt’s white coat twisted tightly in the other. More raptors appeared ahead and Nipper skidded to a halt. Grunt came to a stop alongside him and the two exchanged a rapid dialogue of clicks.
Some rescue plan this is, Sam thought as Nipper put him down and squared up to face the growing number of raptors blocking their path ahead. Surely they didn’t expect to just walk out with us. There could be hundreds of raptors between here and the exit.
No sooner had Nipper put Sam down on his feet than Grunt had picked him up and tucked him under his spare arm. To Sam’s amazement, rather than double back along the empty passageway behind them, Nipper let out a mighty roar and charged at the oncoming white coats. What was he thinking? There were lots of them. It looked like a suicide run. Sam wanted to close his eyes, but couldn’t. Grunt had allowed Nipper to build a five-metre lead before following. Sam’s body tensed as they approached the inevitable clash. What could Grunt do to help, encumbered as he was with a boy under each arm? The answer came swiftly – nothing – but to Sam’s surprise, this appeared to be Nipper’s intention.
Although Nipper was no bigger than any of his many opponents, he tore through them as if they were not there. All Sam could think was that life as scientists working here in the Imperium had dulled the fighting instincts of these raptors in their bright white coats. For a moment, he was reminded of a crazy martial arts movie where the hero waded into an army of opponents only to reappear unscathed, with a sea of bodies scattered behind him.
Grunt followed along behind, zigzagging around and bounding over the bodies of the fallen raptors. Some were bleeding from wounds inflicted by Nipper’s deadly claws, but most were more stunned than sliced. Hammer-like blows from Nipper’s feet, elbows, knees and forehead had found their targets with devastating speed and accuracy.
Given the ease with which Nipper ploughed a path along the passageway, Sam assumed he was heading for reception and intended to fight his way out of the building. Once again Nipper had a surprise in store. Halfway along the remaining length of corridor, Nipper opened a door to his right and ducked inside. Grunt followed and the door closed behind them. The room they entered was large. Sam identified a holographic projection table at one end, but throughout the rest of the space were what looked like workstations piled high with a bizarre mixture of human and raptor technology.
Grunt put the boys down and the two raptors exchanged another burst of rapid clicking and growling before crossing the room to the far wall. To Sam’s amazement, the raptors laid down on the floor with their feet against one of the larger wall panels. Nipper gave a double click and as one, the two raptors kicked out. It was hard to imagine anything strong enough to withstand that blow, but the panel did not budge. For the next thirty seconds the raptors pounded at the panel with coordinated ferocity. Their mighty leg muscles bulged with every recoil and each impact rang through the room like the striking of a gong.
Just when Sam began to think they were wasting their time and energy, a cracking sound inspired hope. The next blow drew a grating crack and the one after sent the panel clear of the wall to leave a gaping hole.
The two raptors jumped to their feet and Nipper looked out through the opening before turning to the boys and beckoning.
‘Come,’ he said clearly again.
The two boys ran to comply even as the door swished open behind them. Grunt swept Callum into his arms and crossed to the opening in a single bound.
‘You’ve got to be kidding!’ Callum cried, terror in every syllable. ‘Ahhhhhrrrrrrgggghhh!’
Sam heard his friend’s cry fade through the hole as Nipper grabbed him and leapt to follow. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of raptors pouring in through the open door before realising what had struck such fear into his friend.
‘Bloody hell, no!’ he breathed.
Leah looked out at the darkening sky from the doorway and she shivered. Her teeth ached. It was a bad sign. There was another storm coming and it felt like it was brewing for a bad blow. Lightning lanced from cloud to cloud in the distance, a momentary split in the fabric of the heavens.
Crossing her arms, she rubbed at the tops of shoulders before reaching up to rub gently at the line of her jaw. She hated sitting out storms alone. The noises frightened her. The wind whistling in the trees, the rattling of shutters and the crashing, growling thunder never failed to set her quaking. Brad normally took her to bed and cuddled her when the weather turned like this. She would miss the warmth of his chest against her back and the comforting strength of his arms wrapped round her body tonight. She hoped he was all right.
‘Please look after him, Nipper,’ she breathed, willing the words to hold power. Dark thoughts and dreams had haunted her thoughts from the moment he had left and it was hard to shake the feeling that something bad had happened. ‘Don’t be silly, Leah,’ she chided. ‘Of course Nipper will look after him!’
A grumble of thunder carried an ominous warning on the wind. Would this storm bring new additions to the community? It was unlikely, but possible. Sometimes the Bermuda Triangle would cause a spate of victims to be washed up on to the shoreline, but then it might be months, or even years between arrivals. Given the appearance of the two boys recently, the odds were not in favour of more new blood so quickly. However, the Triangle had no care for odds.
Leah shut the door and barred it. In a flurry of activity, she swept around the house closing and barring all of the window shutters before retiring to the bedroom. Gathering as many cushions as she could find, she piled them round herself on the bed and nestled underneath the covers. It was not the same as having Brad there, but once the bed had warmed to her
body, it was not long before she began to drift towards an uneasy sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
‘He’s falling!’
‘What? Who?’
‘Sam!’ Niamh gasped. ‘I can feel him more clearly. He’s . . . OK! I can feel his relief. For a moment just then, he thought he was going to die.’
‘That’s really spooky, you know,’ Carrie said in a low voice, looking around to see if anyone else was near enough to hear their conversation. There was no one. A car trundled past along the highway, but the single occupant did not give them a second glance. ‘Can you sense where he is? Do you think he’s in Miami?’
‘I don’t know,’ Niamh said, shaking her head. ‘It doesn’t work that way. Mostly I just sense something of what he’s feeling, especially if it’s a powerful emotion like fear.’ Her eyes went distant. ‘I can tell he’s a long way away,’ she added. ‘But for some reason, I can feel him more clearly than I have since he first went out on the boat and disappeared. It’s weird!’
‘Does Sam sense you in the same way?’
‘It’s hard to say,’ Niamh said. ‘I know from things he’s said that there are times when he feels my emotions. But does he feel it the same way? I don’t know for sure what goes on inside his head.’
‘Did you pick up anything else, apart from the fact he was falling? Anything at all? Even the smallest clue might help.’
‘No,’ Niamh said slowly. ‘But I think . . .’ She paused and her eyes snapped back into focus. She lifted her right hand from her side and pointed at the store on the other side of the carriageway. ‘. . . he’s somewhere over that way.’
Carrie followed the line of her finger and her eyebrows rose.
‘Miami’s probably a good place to look then,’ she said. ‘You’re pointin’ pretty much due north.’
‘Really? That’s encouraging. Thanks.’
‘Do you know where you’re going to go when you get there?’
‘Not really, no.’
‘What about a place to stay? It’ll be dark by the time you get to Miami. Whatever you do, don’t walk the city streets alone at night. Miami ain’t the place to do that.’
‘I’ve got enough money for a night in a hotel,’ Niamh assured her. ‘Maybe even two if I can find a cheap one somewhere. If I don’t find Sam before my money runs out, then I’ll turn myself in to the police and let them take me back to England.’
‘Really? Promise me?’ Carrie looked very serious.
‘Yes, I promise,’ Niamh assured her.
‘Uh oh!’ Carrie said suddenly, her eyes sliding to the left.
‘What?’
‘Cops inbound!’
A patrol car was approaching. Niamh could see two officers inside and the car was slowing. Running was not an option. It would just draw their attention. The car was too close for her to make a clean escape. Not far behind the car, Niamh could see another vehicle. Was it her bus? She hoped with all her heart that it was.
‘Relax!’ Carrie told her, sensing her immediate nervousness. ‘You don’t look like you, remember. They’re looking for a blonde runaway. You don’t look like their search profile any more. Better still, that looks like your bus. I’ll talk to the cops. When the bus stops, get on and I’ll wave you off. Good luck, Niamh. Stay in touch, OK? You’ve got my cell number.’
‘I have and I will,’ Niamh replied. She hugged Carrie, squeezing her tight. ‘Thanks for all your help. I still don’t know what I did to deserve it. You’ve got to come and visit me in the UK when I make it back there. You’ll love it there.’
‘That’d be cool. I’d love to do that.’
‘Hey! Miss!’
Carrie looked round. The patrol car had pulled over and the officer in the passenger seat had wound the window down. He was beckoning to her. To Niamh’s horror, she realised it was the same policeman who had chased her on foot from her house on Summerland Key. She felt sick.
The police officer glanced at her and she felt sure the game was up. To her amazement though, his gaze seemed to slide straight off her and back to Carrie. The disguise was working. She had not really believed it would, but Carrie was right. The man had not given her a second glance. The grumbling bus rounded the patrol car and its tyres crackled to a halt on the dusty gravel in front of her. There was a hiss and the door opened. Niamh bounded up the steps.
‘Miami?’ she asked, showing the ticket Carrie had printed out for her.
‘Take a seat, miss,’ the driver said, giving her a nod.
Niamh turned back to Carrie. ‘Say goodbye to Tony for me,’ she said. ‘Thanks again for everything.’ The doors gave another hiss and folded outwards to shut with a satisfying clunk and she moved back along the rows of seats until she was about halfway back along the aisle. As she settled into the seat, there was a tap at the window. It was Carrie. She was grinning and waving. Carrie continued to wave as the bus pulled away.
It looked as though she’s enjoying my narrow escape, Niamh thought as she waved and watched until Carrie was out of sight. Niamh would never forget how much Carrie and Tony had helped her. Without them, she would have been caught by the police for sure.
It took a while for Niamh to settle back into her seat and fully relax. She could still feel Sam in her mind. Why were his thoughts and emotions so clear all of a sudden? It felt as though her mind had suddenly been fine-tuned to the correct frequency. The fuzzy static that had clouded her link was almost completely gone. Wherever he was, there was danger all around him. Was it the strength of his current emotion making him feel closer? She didn’t think so. If anything, he felt physically further away than he had when she had been on the Mitchells’ boat. It was weird . . . unless . . . unless the equivalent of a door had somehow been opened between them.
Niamh tried to think through some of the theories that her dad had told her about. Wasn’t one of them based on a sort of portal? Was that it? Had Sam and Callum passed through a sort of gateway? If so, where had the gateway led? Some of the old names for the Bermuda Triangle hinted at another place – the Port of Lost Souls, the Limbo of the Lost. But wherever Sam was, it didn’t feel like any sort of limbo. The Devil’s Triangle – was it a trap? Was there actually some malevolent being that lured boats and aircraft into an elaborate web from which there was no escape?
A sudden revelation seemed to trap all the air in Niamh’s lungs. Sam was not just afraid for himself. Niamh might have expected him to be afraid for Callum as well, but that was not it. He was afraid for . . . Mum! It felt as though someone had tied a rope around her ribcage and was pulling it tighter and tighter. Why did it feel as if Sam was thinking so clearly about Mum? Was it possible that she was still alive after all this time?
With a determined effort, Niamh drew a steadying breath in through her nose, taking in more and more air until her chest felt fit to burst. Relaxing, she allowed the pressure to expel the air gently through her mouth and then she did it again. Several breaths later, she felt the pressure on her ribs begin to relax. If it was true, it would be amazing! She had to let Dad know what she had sensed . . . but how? For all she knew, he might already be halfway across the Atlantic being escorted home by the police.
Dare she ring his mobile? The police almost certainly had it, but at least she would be able to send her father a message. Niamh looked around the bus to see if there was anyone she’d be comfortable asking to borrow a phone from. There was an older teenage boy sitting a couple of seats forward and on the other side of the aisle. He would surely have a phone, but she wasn’t sure she would have the confidence to ask him. There was an old lady sitting in the seat directly behind her, four more old people sitting further forward and a young couple sitting right at the back of the bus. One glance at them and Niamh knew that she would be too embarrassed to interrupt their intimate conversation.
I can wait, she told herself. Maybe if I focus, I’ll learn more.
She closed her eyes and concentrated, feeling for Sam’s emotions and listening for his thoughts.
Instantly, a sense of danger set the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. It felt as if Sam was running, but he had nowhere safe to run to. Was this really Sam she was feeling? Niamh could not help but wonder if the feelings were simply reflections of how she felt about her own current situation.
For several minutes, she concentrated. He was travelling fast. She had the sense that he was inside, yet not inside. But that made no sense . . . Callum was with him. Yes. She could feel his presence. He was scared too. But there was someone else. Someone bigger. No. Not someone. Something. A confusing image filled her mind. Although it was unclear, the impression was of a creature that could have stepped out of Doctor Who, or Star Wars. Through the fuzzy static a face emerged, like nothing Niamh had ever seen before. At first it did not look particularly frightening, but then its mouth began to open and she saw the teeth.
Her focus was lost in an instant. Her heart was beating hard and fast. Her stomach was churning. Her eyes snapped open and the bright sunlight beaming through the windows of the bus set her to blinking away tears. Niamh had never had a waking nightmare before, but that must have been what the image was. The creature she had seen in her mind’s eye could not be real. It wasn’t possible, but she could not recall ever seeing anything quite like it before. So where had the image come from, if not from Sam?
With her blood hammering in her ears, it took a moment for her to register the news announcement on the bus’s radio. It was the word ‘coastguard’ that triggered her to mentally tune in to what the newsreader was saying.
‘. . . coastguard today announced they were calling off the active search for two boys who went missing on Wednesday morning. Aircraft from Fort Lauderdale and coastguard vessels from Naval Air Station Key West have been combing the waters around Summerland Key for any sign of Sam Cutler and Callum Barnes, both aged fourteen and from England. The boys were on vacation at Mr Matthew Cutler’s holiday home when they allegedly took Mr Cutler’s boat out fishing.
