“Yes, Mom. Somebody took it. It would need to ‘come loose’ on both ends. And besides, whoever did it also took the radio mic to make sure we couldn’t call for help.” Calvin looked down at the floor then, as if to say that this part of the conversation was over.
“All right,” Dr. Geaux said. “I guess you boys can stay here. Rangers Clark, Marcus, and I will take two boats out to the island. Dr. Doyle, I would appreciate your having a look as well, but I understand if you want to remain behind with Emmet.”
Dr. Doyle looked at her and then Emmet. He was about to speak, but Emmet beat him to it.
“Wait a minute! You’re not going out there and leaving us here alone! Not with those things on the loose,” Emmet said.
“Emmet …” Dr. Doyle started to speak, but Dr. Geaux cut him off.
“No, it’s okay, Benton. I understand Emmet’s point. It’s not been the best introduction to Florida. But Calvin understands I have a responsibility as park director to investigate.” She waited to see what the two of them would say next.
“Oh, no you don’t. I’m not falling into the ‘I have a responsibility’ trap. I have a responsibility, too! To myself! To not get eaten! I’m not going anywhere. Dad, if you need to go, fine. But I’m staying here until you get back. Right here. In this office. With the door closed. And locked. I’m pretty sure those … croco-whatevers … can’t pick locks. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if they could.”
“I’ll stay with you, Emmet,” Dr. Doyle said quietly. “I know you’re scared. It’ll be okay.”
Dr. Geaux stood up and looked at Calvin. “Do you want to stay? You know I have to investigate, right?”
“I don’t mind going out with you, Mom. But you should make sure the rangers take rifles. Those things didn’t act like regular gators…. Well … maybe gators on steroids,” Calvin said.
“Benton,” Dr. Geaux said. “Would you and Emmet mind remaining here until we return? It’s almost dark, and we won’t be out long. But if there’s anything to see, I don’t want to leave it until tomorrow. If we find … something, I’d like you to be here in case we need to examine … in case we need you.”
“Certainly. We’ll wait until you return, Rosalita. Be careful,” Dr. Doyle said. She nodded, and Emmet and Dr. Doyle watched as they left the building.
“Geez,” Emmet said.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” his dad asked.
“Physically. But I’m going to have nightmares for the rest of my life. I mean it. For. Ever. But that Calvin kid. He’s … he’s …” Emmet couldn’t think of the right words. He sat down in a chair next to Dr. Geaux’s desk and Apollo hopped up into his lap, licking his face.
“He’s what?” Dr. Doyle prodded Emmet.
“Not normal!” Emmet was freaking out. His dad was as cool as the other side of the pillow. “Those things were going to eat us and he’s all ‘Hold them off with the boat hook.’ And I’m all ‘A boat hook! We need a machine gun!’ And he’s all ‘Let me fix my engine with some duct tape and spit.’ Holy moly! We could have been killed!” Emmet sat, stiff as a board, on the chair.
“Sounds like he’s at home in the swamp,” Dr. Doyle said, trying to settle Emmet down.
“I’ll say. We heard a noise up in the trees and saw the leaves and branches moving, and then this weird growling, crying sound. Apollo starts going nuts, and Calvin says, ‘Oh, it’s probably just a panther.’ Like he might have been describing a kitten. A panther! Who does that? And I knew Florida has alligators — I mean I watch TV. But you never said anything about panthers or those, those …”
“What did you call them, again?” Dr. Doyle asked.
“I … I don’t remember. It’s weird. Their faces, or snouts or whatever, look like birds somehow. It’s …” Emmet went on, “Why didn’t you tell me about those? I’ve never heard of them before!”
“That’s because they’ve never existed before. At least, not in this form, and not for a very long time,” Dr. Doyle said, looking out the window of Dr. Geaux’s office.
“Wait. What? Slow down, Dad. I’m not a scientist. What did you just say?” Emmet’s nerves were still jangled, although Apollo, in his dog’s mind having vanquished the creatures in battle, curled up in his lap and went to sleep.
“Dr. Geaux and I have come up with a preliminary theory. We don’t think these creatures are naturally evolved,” Dr. Doyle said.
“Huh? What do you mean, ‘naturally evolved’? My brain hurts. I just about got eaten by a couple of dinogators or … whatever,” Emmet complained.
“We don’t think these creatures are … real manifestations of natural selection or even crossbreeding. Their DNA sequences don’t —”
“Dad!” Emmet interrupted him.
“We think somebody made them. In a lab,” Dr. Doyle said.
THE MAN WATCHED THE EVENTS TRANSPIRE ON THE island with rising alarm. His creatures were not behaving normally. The entire plan was for them to scare the boys off the island. He had assumed they could float away in the disabled boat and the creatures would return to the island until he retrieved them. But they were aggressive, pursuing them until Calvin’s quick thinking drove them back. What happened?
He admired the boy’s cleverness and ingenuity. Fixing the fuel line was something the man didn’t expect. There must have been a spare on board. He would have to remember that next time.
Waiting until they disappeared from sight, he started the engine and maneuvered his craft toward the island. Nearing the shore, he cut the engine and let the boat glide to a stop. He could no longer hear the sound of the motor on Dragonfly 1, but he knew Dr. Geaux would send a team out soon to investigate. He pushed the button on the tablet computer and the cage doors on the bow of his boat slid open. The red light on each cage blinked, sending out the beacon. The man held his breath, hoping the homing signal would still work.
A few seconds later, he heard the growls of Hammer and Nails echoing through the trees. Still he waited. There was no further sound from them, and the island and the swamp around it were silent. Birds were no longer visible; even the insects were not chirping. He worried that the hybrids might have left the island and entered the swamp. It would be disastrous. They were not ready to be released.
The man knelt on the deck of his boat and opened a panel that revealed a rifle and a long steel pole with a cable noose at one end. The rifle held tranquilizer darts that should render the creatures unconscious. Of course, he realized just then that he hadn’t tested the weapon or the tranquilizer, and had no idea if the darts would penetrate the thick skin of the Pterogators. Trying to capture the creatures with the pole and noose would be dangerous, but not impossible.
His mind raced, dozens of thoughts cascading through it like a waterfall. With Dr. Geaux in possession of the corpse of one of his creatures, his timetable was now artificially advanced. He questioned his decision to let the boys escape. Perhaps that was a mistake. Park officials would be on the alert and even more vigilant. It could interfere with his plans.
The very thought enraged him. These bureaucrats would go to any lengths to stop him from correcting their own incompetence and abuse. They did nothing while the Everglades were destroyed by invasive species and their own inaction. Yet he would be considered the criminal.
Once he recovered Hammer and Nails, it would be time to up his game. If park officials led by Dr. Geaux wanted to push back, then he could push back just as hard.
Or harder. He would see to it that —
Movement in the underbrush interrupted his thoughts. The leaves and branches of the shrubs and saw grass lining the shore of the island shook, and then Hammer and Nails emerged onto the beach. Just like always, they crawled toward the boat and climbed into their cages. He pushed the icon on the tablet and the doors slid silently shut. He let out a long, slow breath.
The amount of time and money he’d invested into these creatures was staggering. And they were only the first stage in his plan to restore not just the Everglade
s but also the entire South Florida ecosystem. It had taken years of study and nearly all of his wealth to get this far. He couldn’t fail now.
The arrival of Dr. Doyle changed things. Once Dr. Geaux recovered the corpse of one of his Pterogators, she would have undoubtedly run DNA tests. The results would show the unique avian and crocodilian DNA of the creature. He should have guessed she would have asked for help on the scientific end. The woman was a complete amateur, in his opinion. How she ever earned a PhD in biology was beyond him.
But Doyle might be a problem. A new set of eyes, someone who specialized in birds of prey, might see how he resequenced the DNA of separate species. He’d figured it out — the secret to making the crossbreeding of two completely different animals possible. One of the greatest scientific breakthroughs of all time and he must keep it a secret. He would have to keep tabs on this Dr. Doyle. There was no way he would let a second-rate bird scientist interfere with his master plan.
He reversed the trolling motor on the boat, waiting until he was in deeper water before he switched on the fan. The boat skimmed across the swamp surface toward his compound. All along the way, he thought of what he would do next if he were given another chance to catch Calvin and the Doyle boy out in the swamp. Maybe they, and what would happen to them, would be the catalyst for the change he so sorely wanted to achieve.
Catalyst.
He smiled. There was that word again.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘NOT FROM OUR TIME’? ARE you talking about time travel or something like that?” Emmet asked. Outside the window, darkness was approaching. Dr. Geaux and the others had yet to return to the compound.
“No. Not time travel. That archosaur is real enough. But it’s not something that originated in nature. It was hatched in a lab, using recombinant DNA and gene sequencing. There seems to be some gene splicing as well. We have to do more tests….”
“Dad. Slow down. You’re doing it again. A recombawhata? And sequencasplicing how?” Emmet had been pinned to a chair for a while now by the sleeping Apollo. He lifted the dog down to the floor and stood up. Almost fighting mutant critters had taken all the starch out of the mutt.
“It … I … sorry. It’s fascinating, really. Someone with a tremendous knowledge of molecular and cellular biology has created a hybrid species. In this case, they’ve recombined the DNA of an alligator and a bird of prey. The result is a creature similar to some types of archosaurs that existed millions of years ago,” Dr. Doyle said.
“How is that even possible? They’re totally different species,” Emmet said.
“True, but for many years, biologists and paleontologists have advanced the theory that modern-day birds are descendants of dinosaurs and prehistoric reptiles. Recent research argues it’s more likely they share a common evolutionary ancestor and branched off into different species.” Dr. Doyle took another chair from in front of Dr. Geaux’s desk and pulled it close, so he sat facing his son.
“But alligators, even fancy, mixed-up genetic freaks like this one, can’t climb trees, can they?” Emmet asked.
“No, alligators aren’t built to climb trees, but again, this is a different species. It has longer legs and more articulated joints in its limbs. Its claws look made for scaling trunks and branches. And it has folds of skin along its sides, like early archosaurs, that would allow it to glide from branch to branch.”
The very idea of one of those beasts floating through the trees made Emmet’s skin crawl. He stood up and walked over to look out the window. It had been a long day, and a not-very-good introduction to Florida to boot. He missed Montana.
“Dad,” Emmet said. “I don’t like it here.”
“I know, son,” Dr. Doyle said.
“I want to go back to Montana. Can we please go?” Emmet pleaded.
“If only we could, Emmet. But the Fish and Wildlife Service sent me here. Sometimes I can’t pick my assignments. And we need me to have a job, so I’m afraid we’re kind of stuck in Florida for a while. I’m really sorry you were scared. It must have been terrifying. We’ll make sure you don’t have to go back into the Everglades,” Dr. Doyle said.
Emmet spun around. He tried hard to control himself but he couldn’t.
“Dad! You just don’t get it! I don’t want you out there, either. You haven’t seen one of these things up close. I have! They’re dangerous. And whoever is doing this doesn’t even realize how dangerous. If you go out there and they’re on the loose … you might … it would …” Emmet couldn’t finish.
“Emmet,” Dr. Doyle said after a pause, “it’s going to be okay. We’ve left it floating out there and never really discussed it. What happened to your mom was …” Dr. Doyle didn’t get a chance to finish, because Emmet ran out the side door of the office into the parking lot.
“Emmet, come back!” Dr. Doyle shouted from the door.
“NO! I want to go home,” Emmet shouted, and ran back up the path toward the dock. It was twilight now, and the sun was setting to the west. The sky was full of reddish light and Emmet ran along the gravel trail. He heard birds calling and insects chirping and it sounded to him like another planet. Montana was quiet and peaceful, with no prehistoric killing machines trying to eat him. Just a few bears, which were far less scary than those flying … death merchants…. He didn’t even know what to call them anymore.
Up ahead he heard the sound of the airboats returning to the dock. Everything sounded foreign to him: the buzz of the swamp, the cry of the cormorants, the mosquito-like whine of the airboat. Not to mention the actual mosquitoes. They were approximately the size of bald eagles, and apparently sent text messages to each other that he was outside and available for feeding. There was no doubt about it — he hated it here. If he could, he’d take his dad’s truck and drive himself back to Montana.
He realized that if he kept walking he would run into Calvin and his mom and the rangers. He didn’t want that, but he didn’t want to go back to the lab, either. His only option was to hide in the underbrush, and that was no option at all, because he didn’t know what might be waiting. With his luck, probably a T. rex. Or some kind of shark that could live on land that everyone conveniently neglected to tell him about before he moved here.
His indecision cost him, as Dr. Geaux and Calvin and the two rangers spotted him on their way up the path from the dock. Clark and Marcus were big dudes with deep tans, and both were well over six feet tall. They could have passed as brothers, even though Marcus had blond hair. It looked like they did a lot of weight lifting; their arms were roped and coiled with muscles. Emmet hadn’t heard them speak yet. He guessed this was why Dr. Geaux chose them for their little committee, because they knew how to keep their mouths shut.
Emmet tried to look casual as they approached, not wanting to give away the fact that he just yelled at his dad and ran out of the lab. Besides, he couldn’t think of anything to say or do that didn’t sound lame.
“Emmet?” Dr. Geaux said. “What are you doing out here?”
“Nothing. I. Um. Just getting some air,” Emmet said.
“I see. Well, we found tracks and other signs from your adventure earlier today,” Dr. Geaux said. “And something else.” She held up a trash bag, and though Emmet couldn’t see what was inside, the way it squished around made him think it was something icky.
“What would that be?” Emmet asked.
“I think we better go inside the lab first,” Dr. Geaux said. She stopped for a moment, speaking in low tones to Clark and Marcus. She must have given them some kind of assignment, because without another word they left the group and headed back toward the dock.
“Now I guess we have an idea of what’s been driving the gators out of the park,” she said. “Come on. Let’s get to the lab. There’s something I need to show your father, Emmet.”
A few minutes later they were back in the lab. Dr. Doyle was still sitting in the chair, where Emmet had left him. Apollo had woken up during Emmet’s absence. Apparently unhappy with the accommodations on the f
loor, he’d crawled up into Dr. Doyle’s lap. The little mutt was upside down, all four paws in the air, as Emmet’s dad absentmindedly stroked his belly.
“There you are,” Dr. Doyle said. He looked at his son but didn’t say anything. Still, Emmet noticed the look of relief on his face and felt bad about yelling at his dad. It wasn’t his idea to move here, either.
“Apollo, off,” Dr. Doyle said as he stood. The dog jumped down from his perch and looked around with his “someone pick me up” face, but found no takers. Disgusted, he jumped back up into the now empty chair and went back to sleep. Archosaur-hunting exhausted him.
“I’m glad you’re both still here,” Dr. Geaux said. She held up the trash bag. “Let me put this away and then I’d like you both to come over to our place for dinner.”
“We don’t want to put you to any trouble,” Dr. Doyle said.
“Nonsense, I’ve got some jambalaya that’s been slow-cooking all day. It’s the least I can do. It’s been a rough, long day. Time for some Florida hospitality,” she said.
“What about what’s in the trash bag?” Emmet asked, suspicious for some reason he couldn’t explain.
“It can wait until Monday. Tomorrow is Sunday, and the two of you will need to get your house unpacked. We’ve done enough work for now,” she said.
“Why did you send the rangers back out?” Emmet asked.
“Well, somebody did sabotage your boat. And that makes me plenty angry. Now, it could have been someone unconnected to all of this. There are people, hunters and guides mostly, who pilot all over the Glades. They know our boat, and a few of them don’t like some of the decisions I’ve made as park director. It could be they were playing a prank, thinking it was me out there. But it’s a far better chance that whoever did it is connected to these creatures. So Marcus and Clark are going to run a grid search. Look for any sign of who might be behind this,” she said.
“But it’s dark out,” Emmet said.
“Yes, it is. Those two are my best rangers and can keep their mouths shut. They’re experienced and know the swamp. And as for the dark, well, sometimes it’s better if the person you’re looking for doesn’t know you’re looking.” Dr. Geaux smiled and went into the lab, and they heard a door on one of the freezer units open and shut. Then she stuck her head back in the room where the three of them waited.
Menace From the Deep Page 5
