by C. G. Mosley
“You haven’t stopped talking, have you?” Julianne asked.
Jonathon took a breath and said nothing. He got into the car.
“Leave the boy alone,” Henry said as he made his way to the passenger side and got into the back seat. Julianne took the front.
“I’m assuming your refusal to answer the question is an indicator that the two of you have indeed stopped talking,” she said once the car started moving.
“Mom, I really don’t want to talk about it right now,” Jonathon said.
“And you don’t have to, son,” Henry chimed in.
Julianne shot her husband a disapproving look.
“Sweetling, I didn’t mean to pry. I just worry about the both of you,” she said.
“I know, Mom. It’s just complicated right now. Lucy refuses to take the treatment, and I want her to take the treatment. Every day that she doesn’t is a day I can’t get back. I just feel pretty helpless right now. The doctor says the best thing she can do right now is just stay off her feet and rest as much as possible. He’s even tried to get her to go see a therapist, something else she refuses to do.”
“See a therapist for what?” Julianne asked.
“Mom, you haven’t seen her, you don’t understand what this is doing to her. She certainly is staying off her feet as the doctor suggested. She lies in bed all day staring out the window, and when she isn’t doing that, she is crying. She needs to see a therapist.”
“My goodness,” Julianne said. “Son, I’m so sorry. We had no idea things had gotten so bad.”
“Well, I’m sorry that it’s like this. Believe me, I am. I hate it.”
“Well, how is her health?” Henry asked.
“She’s alright, best I can tell, and so is the baby. The cancer isn’t having any noticeable effect on her yet—well, besides the emotional part, I mean.”
Julianne stared out the passenger side window and seemed to mull over everything Jonathon had said for a few moments. Henry said nothing too.
“Guys, don’t do that,” Jonathon said, attempting to break the awkward silence.
“Don’t do what, dear?” Julianne asked.
“I don’t want pity,” he replied. “If you want to do something, try and get Lucy to talk. Try to get her to open up about how she’s feeling because she certainly won’t do it for me. I have a feeling if she just had the right person to talk to, she’d feel a lot better.”
“Well, that’s what her mother is for,” Julianne said.
“Mom, you know that she hasn’t spoken to her mother in years.”
Julianne’s mouth dropped open, a surprised look on her face. “Jonathon, are you telling me her own mother doesn’t know what’s going on?”
“Yes, that’s what I’m telling you, and you better not say anything about it either,” he said, wagging a finger at his mother.
“Alright, alright,” she said defensively. “I’d just hate to know you would keep such a thing from me is all.”
“The relationship you and I have is far different from the one Lucy has with her mother…you know that.”
Jonathon pulled the black sedan into the garage and his parents followed him into the house. Julianne made a beeline for Lucy’s bedroom. Suddenly, he and his father were all alone in the kitchen, neither man really knowing what to say.
After a few minutes, Henry drew near his son and placed a firm grip on his shoulder.
“Son, it’s going to be alright,” he said, seemingly reading Jonathon’s worried thoughts.
Jonathon looked at his dad, his eyes welling up with tears. Henry, the smaller man of the two, pulled his son close to him and put his slender arms around him tightly.
“It’s going to be alright, boy,” he repeated. “You’ll see.”
“I can’t tell you how much it helps to hear you say that, Dad,” Jonathon replied.
“What do you say we go out and get a couple of drinks…you know, let your mother work her magic with Lucy,” Henry suggested.
“Well, I don’t want to just take off and leave mom here,” Jonathon said. “You guys just got here.”
“Son, you know your mother. She planned all this out before the plane ever touched down in Mississippi.”
That made Jonathon smile, and then father and son left without discussing it any further.
They didn’t go for drinks as Henry suggested. Instead, Jonathon drove them to a familiar spot he and his father spent a lot of time together at when he was a boy. He thought it would be the perfect place for them to talk about Jonathon’s troubles, and it was probably the first time they’d been there together in over twenty years. He pulled the car over near a well-beaten trail that disappeared into a thicket of pine trees. Henry followed his son through the trail until it suddenly reached its end on a tall bank overlooking the Pearl River. It was now becoming late afternoon, and the sky was beginning to turn a brilliant hue of orange toward the west. It wasn’t the river that brought them to this particular spot; instead, it was the large patch of fossilized clay containing hundreds, or perhaps thousands, of sand dollars and other fossils from the Cenozoic Era. It was where Jonathon received his introduction to paleontology and it was all thanks to Henry. They spent many summers in that fossil bed collecting all sorts of specimens.
“Dad, this is where the fondest memories of my childhood were made,” Jonathon said.
“Yep, I have to admit I have a lot of fond memories of this place myself,” Henry replied, taking a deep breath of the crisp evening air.
A long moment of silence passed. Henry pulled the gray fedora from his head and revealed his white, thinning hair as he was clearly trying to think of the right thing to say. Jonathon was growing tired of the awkward silences. He knew his father pitied him and he hated it. Even though he needed the strong embrace and reassurances from his father as fuel to keep going, he never could get comfortable burdening someone else with his troubles…even his own father. He’d brought his father to this spot for advice, not pity.
“Dad, I don’t want to lose my wife,” he said in a stern tone, looking toward the muddy, swirling waters of the river. He now removed his own hat, clutching it tightly in his fist.
“Well no one is saying you will, son,” Henry said. “You have to keep thinking positive.”
“I’m trying, but I don’t think positive thoughts are going to save her life. The doctor made it pretty clear, at least to me, that the odds are heavily against her.”
“Well, the doctor isn’t the one who decides who stays and who goes,” Henry said. “That’s up to the big man upstairs, you know that.”
Jonathon sighed.
“I know it’s not what you want to hear, son,” Henry said. “But some things are just beyond our control. Sometimes things are just left up to a higher power.”
“Yeah…but what if it wasn’t?”
“What?”
“What if it wasn’t?” Jonathon repeated.
“Well, if it wasn’t, obviously we’d do what was necessary to get her better,” Henry answered, staring at his son.
Jonathon continued to stare into the muddy water of the Pearl River, a determined look on his face.
“Son, there is no use in dwelling on the things you can’t do anything about,” Henry said. “Don’t do that to yourself.”
“Dad, if you were in my shoes—I mean, if Mom were in Lucy’s condition—and you figured out a way to save her, you’d do whatever was necessary to make it happen, right?”
Henry bit his lip as he tried to understand what Jonathon was getting at. “Well, of course I would, son. I’m her husband, and when I married her, I made a promise to take care of her no matter what.”
Jonathon nodded. “That’s right. So if I knew of a way to save Lucy, I should do what was necessary, no matter how dangerous the task was.” He looked to his father for guidance.
“Son, what are you getting at?” Henry asked. “You’re speaking about a bunch of theoretical scenarios that aren’t possible. This isn’t goo
d for you.”
“It’s not a theory, Dad. It’s a real possibility. I know a way to save—heal—her from the cancer.”
Henry walked in front of Jonathon and placed both hands on his son’s shoulders, looking him straight in the eye. “Son, pardon my bluntness, but what in the hell are you talking about?”
“Dad, Lucy and I have kept a secret from you and mom for seven long years. We swore we’d never talk about it with anyone except the other survivors, and we never have—until this very moment.”
Henry shook his head. It was as if he was trying to shake loose the confused state he was feeling. “Survivors? What are you talking about, son?”
“Dad, I’m going to tell you something that you’re going to have a hard time believing. So I’m going to ask you to do two things for me before I begin.”
“Sure,” Henry agreed. “Just tell me what.”
“I’m going to first ask you to please try and have an open mind.”
“Done,” he replied. “I trust you, boy.”
“Secondly,” Jonathon continued. “Before I begin, I’m going to have to ask you to sit down.”
Chapter 3
The Island in the Mist
Eric Gill stared out the windshield of the Learjet as he made his final approach to the freshly paved runway directly next to the base camp of his operation. He marveled at the shiny new facilities he’d seen built from the ground up over the past seven years. When he first set foot on the island, almost seven years ago now, his only goal was to find his missing boss. He’d come prepared with plenty of heavy firepower, but alas, it wasn’t enough to prepare him for some of the dangerous animals that called the island home.
Eric had foolishly brought a few college kids with him as cheap labor, and looking back on it, he couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been. Handing college kids assault rifles and telling them to shoot at any animal that attacked them was beyond stupid. It was downright idiotic. But that was exactly what he’d done, and they had been on the island exactly ten minutes before he suddenly realized how big of a mistake it truly was.
When the first tyrannosaur came lumbering onto the beach and opened its massive jaws, the roar it expelled was the most terrifying sound he’d ever heard in his life. He’d looked down at his gun at that moment, and it suddenly seemed no more useful than a squirt pistol. He and his young employees barely escaped with their lives, and Eric knew immediately that Angus Wedgeworth had to be dead. There was no way one man could survive on that island all alone.
On the voyage back to Florida, the wheels in Eric’s head turned wildly, and it wasn’t long before he came up with an idea to make a ton of money off the island. It was dangerous and it was crazy, but if he figured out how to pull it off, there would be no limit to the amount of money he could potentially make. The only other matter he had to address was the four college kids he’d foolishly hired to help him. They’d seen the tyrannosaur, and he knew they’d tell anyone who would listen about what they’d seen. Eric used a combination of fear and incentive to try and keep them quiet. He told them he was going to start a business on the island and that he’d soon be making millions. Eric offered them jobs on the spot in exchange for their silence.
He even made them sign a contract with very strict stipulations. One of the stipulations was that they had to drop out of college and go to work for him immediately. He’d saved up a good nest egg to keep them paid until he got the ball rolling. If they refused his offer…well, that was where the fear tactic came in. If they refused, he’d threaten to kill them. Fortunately, it never came to that. The young men, although somewhat rattled by the sight of the fearsome tyrannosaur, agreed to go to work for Eric immediately. All of the young men still worked for him to this very day, and he knew he owed a lot of the success his business had achieved to them.
The business that had literally made him millions was quite simple. He had a team of well-trained associates that helped him trap and sell all sorts of dinosaurs on the black market for incredibly high price tags. Eric had a history of smuggling all sorts of things in and out of the country on his airplanes, and that was actually how he’d become acquainted with Angus Wedgeworth so many years ago. He knew all sorts of rich, powerful men all over the world that would pay vast quantities of money just to own a real live dinosaur. His customers signed very strict contracts, and he made sure each of them knew how important it was to keep certain aspects of his business secret. No one knew the location of his island and he wanted to keep it that way. Trust was a major part of his trade, and if he didn’t trust a potential customer, then he didn’t make a deal.
So it was no surprise that he felt torn on his latest potential customer, Mr. O. The species of dinosaurs that Mr. O was interested in was far larger and more dangerous than any he’d ever sold before. But it would also be by far the most lucrative sales he would have ever made if he went through with it. Eric could not deny to himself that he definitely had some trust issues with Mr. O, but he also could not deny that he was very, very tempted by the seventeen-million-dollar sale within his grasp. Eric wasn’t even sure why he was entertaining thoughts of turning Mr. O’s offer down because he’d already accepted the deposit.
I could always return it, he thought.
The Learjet touched down so gently that the tires barely chirped. After Eric parked the plane in the hangar, he climbed down the stairs and was met by David Turner.
David Turner, or Dave as he liked to be called, was one of the college kids he’d hired to help find Angus. He kept his hair cut short as it became wild and shaggy if he let it get too long. He was a wiry young man, and his shirt and tie made him look like a young boy trying to play dress up in his father’s clothes. What he lacked in appearance, he more than made up for with intellect. He’d become Eric’s most trusted associate, and he always asked for Dave’s input when it came time to make a new sale.
“So, how did it go?” Dave asked.
“Well,” Eric said crossing his arms, “we could bring in seventeen million dollars if we accept the job.”
Dave whistled. “Wow, that’s WAY more than any other sale we’ve ever made before. I’m scared to ask what the guy wants.”
“It’s actually two different animals,” Eric said, and he reached in his pocket and retrieved a pack of Jupiter brand cigarettes. He placed a stick in his mouth and followed that with the strike of a match to light it up.
Dave watched the end of the cig glow cherry red as his boss inhaled. “Well, let me guess, one of them is a tyrannosaur.”
Eric nodded. “Bingo,” he said, blowing smoke out his nose.
“It’d have to be for a price tag like that,” said Dave. “So how are we gonna trap one of those? We’ve never gone after a dino that big before.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be too hard,” Eric said, the cigarette twitching in his mouth as he spoke. “He’s only asking for a juvenile.”
Dave scratched his head. “Well, what did you charge him for the juvenile?”
“Two million dollars.”
Dave gulped…he was suddenly worried. “Uh, so what is the other fifteen million for? Please don’t say he wants the Spinosaurus…I thought you said you wouldn’t sell that one.”
Eric held up a hand and shook his head. To their knowledge, there was only one Spinosaurus on the entire island. The paleontologist that worked for Eric assured him this was actually a good thing since multiple spinosaurs would probably eventually wipe out the other carnivores on the island. The dinosaur was so fearsome there was little doubt that it would be able to kill a tyrannosaur in a one-on-one fight. Fortunately, however, the tyrannosaurs were much more social dinosaurs than what most experts believed. The Spinosaurus was unable to take on multiple tyrannosaurs at once, and for this reason, it seemed to stay on the opposite side of the valley.
“I’m not selling the Spinosaurus,” he replied quickly. “That animal is unique since it’s the only one we have.”
Dave gave him a puzzled expression. “Well
, if it’s not the Spinosaurus, what else could it be for that kind of price tag?”
“Sarcosuchus,” Eric replied. “He wants Sarcosuchus.” He turned and began to walk away.
“Whoa, wait,” Dave said, chasing after him. “Did you even think about this?”
“What is there to think about?” Eric asked. “He offered me fifteen million for one. One was seen recently on the southwest corner of the island, and there is reason to believe there are more. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, all we need is one.”
“Yeah, that’s great, but the part you need to think about is the how.”
“The how is not our department, we just make the deals. Let Dr. Cruz and Glenn figure out the how. That’s their job.”
“Glenn is going to go ape-shit about this—and what if they can’t figure it out?” Dave asked, unable to contain his disbelief.
“Then we’ll have to find someone who can,” Eric replied as he entered the massive steel building.
***
“Are you out of your minds?” Dr. Casey Cruz snapped.
“No, I’m fully aware of what I’m asking for,” Eric Gill replied.
Dr. Cruz slapped his hands down on the steel table and suddenly got up from his seat. He began pacing back and forth in the conference room.
“You’re awfully quiet over there,” Eric said to the thirty-something-year-old man that sat quietly at the opposite end of the table.
The man had a dark complexion, a clear indicator of the amount of time that he spent outdoors. He wore a weathered hat that looked something like the one Crocodile Dundee wore; however, the band was littered with raptor ‘sickle’ claws of all different sizes instead of crocodile teeth. He’d had to kill many of them that tried to take up residence outside the fences of the base camp. The raptors saw their human neighbors as an easy meal and often attacked the trucks coming to and from the facility. It was Glenn Hardcastle’s job as the dinosaur-wrangler to keep them under control. His job was the most dangerous on the island. If it ever scared him, he hid it extremely well.
