by C. G. Mosley
Hardcastle took his hat off his head and raked his fingers through sandy blond hair. He had a toothpick in his mouth, just as he always did. After replacing the hat, he stared at Eric a long moment with his gun-metal gray eyes before speaking.
“Mr. Gill, I don’t think I need to say a damn thing about how extraordinarily dangerous what you’re asking us to do is going to be. You just said yourself you already know what you’re asking. If you want Sarcosuchus, then you need to be prepared for what comes along with that.”
“Meaning what, exactly?” Eric asked.
“Meaning someone is probably going to die,” Hardcastle replied.
“But it’s your job to keep them under control,” Eric shot back.
“I’m one man,” Hardcastle said. “I’m one man and I’m damn good at what I do. I challenge you to find another man on the planet with the experience I have wrangling dinosaurs. I’ve wrestled a damn raptor to the ground and slit its throat just before it tried to rip my intestines out with its claws. I once drove my jeep in front of a charging Triceratops to keep it from impaling your boyfriend Dave there, and if I’m remembering right, I got a couple of cracked ribs in the process. Hell, I’ve even brought down an Allosaurus that tried to tear the northwest corner of the fence down with a perfectly placed bullet in the side of the animal’s head.”
Hardcastle paused a moment for dramatic effect and looked around the room. “I think I’ve done a damn good job of keeping them under control, Mr. Gill, and I dare say, I’m pretty qualified to give an honest opinion when it comes to catching dinosaurs. I’m telling you someone is probably going to die this time. I don’t know who, and to be honest, I really don’t care as long as it’s not me. I didn’t say I can’t catch your damn dinosaur. I just want you to be prepared for what comes along with it.
“Now if you don’t like what I have to say, and if you think you can find another dino-wrangler somewhere in the world with as many years’ experience as I’ve got, then by all means, call the son of a gun up and give his ass my job. But if you want me to guarantee you I can catch this monster by myself, it ain’t gonna happen. And if you want me to guarantee you I can catch this monster with help and keep everyone alive in the process, it ain’t gonna happen. I’m one man, Mr. Gill.”
“Very well,” Eric said. “I value your opinion, Glenn. I’m aware of the risks, but just to be clear, you’re saying you can catch the animal, right?”
Hardcastle clenched his jaw. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” he replied.
“Great,” Eric said, then turned his attention back to Dr. Cruz. “Okay, Casey, as our resident paleontologist, what can you tell us about Sarcosuchus?”
“I can tell you that it’s the main reason the tyrannosaurs avoid the southwest corner of the island,” he replied. “They’re smart enough to avoid them and their brains are only the size of a walnut. What does that say about us?”
Dave couldn’t help but chuckle at that.
“Okay, I think we’ve all established that these are some dangerous animals, but come on, give us some information we can use,” Eric said.
“Well, they’re basically a super-sized crocodile. Fully grown, they are forty-feet long. The head alone is six feet long, so it could basically swallow any of us whole in one gulp. The thing weighs at least eight tons, and it has a bite force of 18,000 psi. If a living thing gets caught in its jaws, there is absolutely no escape.”
“Geez, it weighs eight tons?” Dave asked, his face turning slightly pale.
“That’s right,” Dr. Cruz replied. “Just moving the animal will be a big challenge.”
“The best thing to do is have a massive ship ready on the southwest corner of the island,” Hardcastle chimed in. “We’ll need a barge near the beach to place the animal on. We’ll drag the heavy bastard out to deeper water with tow cables and then we’ll need a crane to get it on the ship.”
“I like that plan,” Eric said.
“Yeah, the only thing we have to do is figure out how to catch it,” Dr. Cruz said.
“Well, that’s what I want you two to figure out,” Eric said, pointing to Cruz and Hardcastle. “Spend the rest of the day trying to figure it out if that’s what it takes.”
Chapter 4
Silas Treadwell kicked back in the large, yet rather comfortable, leather chair behind the desk of his personal office. He placed both feet on the finished oak surface before him and took a rather pleasant drag off the massive cigar locked between his lips. It was a sweet taste, and no matter how many cigars he smoked, it never ceased to be any less sweet. As he did this, he looked around the massive room before him. There were animals peering down at him from all different directions on the dark-stained wood panels. There was a massive head of a water buffalo to his left, along with a rhino, giraffe, and antelope.
On his right, a massive grizzly bear stood twelve feet off the ground on its hind legs, its massive paws stretched above its head with huge black claws extended. The animal’s mouth gaped open, revealing fangs capable of ripping apart any living thing that dared get in its way—or almost any living thing, Silas thought. He knew full well that there were creatures he’d seen years ago that would probably cause even the mighty grizzly bear to flee in a panic.
There were lots of other trophies mounted on the walls surrounding him, but he always longed for one animal in particular—one animal that he swore he’d never pursue. His biggest fear was regret. He was pushing sixty-five now, and he’d done almost everything he wanted to do in his life. He’d shot and displayed every trophy he’d ever hoped to find—but that one animal in particular haunted him. It haunted him so much he truly wondered if he’d go mad when he finally stepped down from the job that made him famous.
Wild World had once been the most popular nature program on the planet. Silas Treadwell had taught so many families about the most dangerous creatures on the planet, and he’d captivated those same families by often putting his own life in danger just to get an up-close look at the animals. He did it for the people watching at home, but if he was really honest with himself, he probably did it mostly for himself. He did it for the thrill. Silas lived for the feeling he got when he was on the verge of being eaten alive, or trampled, or mauled—only to escape without a scratch on him (most of the time anyway). People saw him as a bit of a hero, and although he’d taken plenty of flak from the animal lovers of the world, he knew in his heart how much respect he had for the animal kingdom.
He looked around at his trophies again. Sure he’d killed plenty of animals for sport, but he’d compensated every one of those animals ten-fold in lots of other ways. He had a very successful foundation that paid millions every year toward animal conservation—and to be fair, he only killed a particular species of animal once. He just considered his trophies payment for all the good deeds he was doing.
However, the days of his admirers outnumbering his antagonists were now long gone. The folks in the ‘90s had gone soft, and it seemed no one wanted to see him tempting fate on a weekly basis anymore. The ratings for Wild World were now at an all-time low, and there were lots of fancy television executives that had had enough too. It seemed there was lots of new blood in the animal conservation industry that had television shows now, and they were younger, more attractive, and downright lovey-dovey with the animals on their shows. The grizzled hunter and conservationist Silas Treadwell had run his course.
Silas took another puff off his cigar and blew a smoke ring. He supposed it was all for the best because after all, although his life was far from over, the harsh reality was that he wasn’t getting any younger. What else did he have to prove? And it was that line of thinking that got him right back to the one thing that haunted him. A tyrannosaur would look mighty good right above the fireplace, he thought.
The phone suddenly rang loudly, startling him. He gently laid the cigar down on the edge of an ashtray and snatched up the phone.
“Hello, Silas Treadwell speaking,” he said gruffly.
Silas suddenly sat up straighter in his chair.
“Jonathon! Is that you?” he asked.
Jonathon chuckled. “It’s me, old man…how are you, Silas?”
“Funny that you’re picking this particular moment to call,” he replied. “I was just sitting here thinking of our little adventure in the Bermuda Triangle.”
“Really?” Jonathon said. “That’s funny, because that’s kind of why I’m calling.”
Silas opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly stopped. Why in the world is he calling about that?
“Silas, are you there?” Jonathon said, noticing the awkward silence.
“Yes, of course I’m here,” he said. “Just trying to think of any good reason why you’d be calling me about that place.”
Jonathon sighed. “You have no idea how many times I picked up the phone to call you in the last few minutes, only to put it back down.” He paused and laughed nervously.
“Calm down, boy,” Silas said, picking up on his uneasiness. “What do you need?”
“I really need a favor,” Jonathon said. “And before I ask, please understand I’ll completely understand if you say no.”
“What do you need?”
“Silas, I’ve got to make a trip back to the island,” Jonathon said quickly. “I have no earthly idea how to get back to it. I was hoping that you might know the way since you piloted our ship back home. I’m not asking you to go on land with me; I’m just asking if you could get me there.”
Silas was stunned. So much so, he found himself unable to respond.
“Silas?”
“Yes—sorry, I’m here,” he replied finally. “I have to admit that’s the last thing I expected you to say to me.”
“I know,” Jonathon replied. “I can imagine how crazy it must sound.”
“I mean, after all,” Silas continued, “you were the main one that was preaching to the rest of us about how critical it was for us to all keep quiet about that island—to never go back there again.”
“I know—”
“You told us that it was up to all of us to keep that island and the animals on it safe because it was never meant to be interfered with by man,” Silas said.
“Yes, well something’s changed,” Jonathon said.
“Well, that’s obvious,” Silas replied. “Because the guy speaking on the other end of this phone isn’t the Jonathon I remember.”
“Lucy has cancer,” Jonathon blurted out. “She’s pregnant and she is refusing treatment.”
Silas slumped down in his chair; the words fell upon him like a ton of bricks. He reached over and grabbed his cigar to get another puff.
“My God,” he said after a moment. “Jonathon, I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“I’m desperate; I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m guessing you think that fountain can save her,” Silas said.
“Yes, it’s the only option I can think of,” Jonathon replied. “I refuse to sit back and watch her die.”
“Well, wait a minute, I’m confused. I thought that water only kept people young.”
“Yes, it does. And it drops years off your age immediately. Osvaldo told us that once a person drank the water, they never get sick, and they never age. The only way they can die is if someone mortally wounds them. If Lucy drinks the water, it’ll take years off her age—it’ll cure the cancer and it’ll be impossible for it to return.”
Silas rubbed his eyes as he processed what Jonathon was telling him. “Alright, I follow you,” he said. “So what does Lucy say about this?”
Jonathon said nothing.
“Oh, come now, man,” Silas snapped. “Don’t tell me you’re going to trick her into drinking that water?”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” Jonathon replied through clenched teeth.
“Wait, you need to slow down and think about this. If Lucy drinks that water, she’ll never grow old. You will, but she will not. Do you want to grow old and die, only to leave her behind? Do you want your child to do the same thing? Jonathon, no disrespect intended because you know I love you like a brother, but do you have any idea how selfish this sounds? This isn’t you.”
“Actually, I’ve given a lot of thought to this,” Jonathon replied. “To answer your first question, no, I don’t want to leave her behind. That’s why I’m considering drinking the water too.”
There was another long moment of silence before Jonathon finally spoke again.
“So…are you going to get me to that island?”
Silas took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “If I don’t do it, will you give up?”
“Absolutely not. I’m not going to sit back and do nothing while she withers away,” Jonathon answered.
“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Silas said. “Okay, we’re going to do this, but since we’re being selfish and returning to that godforsaken island, I’ve got something I need to do there as well.”
Jonathon hesitated. “Silas, whatever it is, I’m obviously in no position to judge.”
Silas eyed the empty space above the fireplace and smiled. “No, sir, you sure aren’t.”
Chapter 5
“How is she?” Jonathon asked his mother moments after concluding his phone call with Silas.
“She’s sleeping now,” Julianne replied. “I’m afraid she’s fallen into full-blown depression.”
Jonathon nodded. “Yes, it’s getting worse.”
He sat down on the couch and crouched over as if he were going to be sick. Julianne sat down beside him and placed a comforting hand on his back.
“Son, may I make a suggestion?”
“Yes, please do,” he replied as he rested his face in his palms.
“You need to go talk to her some more,” Julianne said.
“Mom, I’ve already tried that,” he said, clearly discouraged.
“I know,” she said. “But, even though she’s not saying much back, believe me when I say she’s listening. She told me she’s very concerned about what this is doing to you and she feels guilty. I think you need to go in there and tell her to concentrate on her.”
Jonathon sat straight up, wide-eyed. “She feels guilty? Why? This isn’t her fault!”
“No, it’s not. The both of us know that, your father knows that. But from her perspective, this illness—this cancer—it’s tearing apart your whole little family unit. I think it would do wonders for her if you would just ease up on her about the treatment options. You need to go in there and be the rock she needs you to be right now.”
Jonathon considered his mother’s advice, and deep down, he knew she was right.
“I’ll talk to her when she wakes up,” he said.
“Very good,” she said, getting up.
Jonathon grabbed his mother’s hand to keep her from leaving. “Mom?”
“Yes, dear?”
“I’ve got a favor I need to ask of you.”
“Of course,” she said, sitting back down. “What do you need?”
“I need to get away for a few days—maybe a week,” he said.
Julianne stared at him, bewildered. “Get away? Where?”
“Well, you pretty much just confirmed what I’ve already been thinking. My current state of mind isn’t doing her any good right now. I need to get away for a few days to clear my head. I’ve already requested the time off at work, and under the circumstances, it was granted. It would help me out tremendously if you stay here with Lucy.”
Julianne stared at her son in disbelief. She wanted to be angry with him, but the sadness in his eyes prevented her from doing so. Instead, she leaned over and embraced him.
“Of course, son,” she said. “But I wish you’d reconsider. Lucy is not going to like this.”
“She’ll understand,” he said. “I’m not going to go anywhere without explaining it to her myself first.”
“Well, where are you going to go?”
&n
bsp; “I’m not sure yet,” he replied. “I’ll figure that part out.”
“We will worry about you,” Julianne said.
“There’s no reason to worry, Mom.”
Julianne stood up, now visibly frustrated. “You’re just going to leave and not even tell us where you’re going? Why shouldn’t I worry?”
“Because I’m going to be with him,” Henry said from somewhere in the kitchen.
This response took Jonathon completely by surprise. He’d told his father about the dinosaurs and the fountain of youth. After the initial stage of shock and disbelief, his father eventually supported his decision. However, he’d made no suggestion about joining him on the trip.
“Dad, that’s really not necessary,” said Jonathon, doing his best to sound grateful, yet firm.
“Oh yes, I think it is, son,” Henry said, now emerging from the kitchen. “I insist.”
Julianne walked across the room to stand beside Henry. “Jonathon, I know this will come as a shock to you, but for once, I have to say that I agree with your father.”
Henry smiled, knowing full well that Jonathon was between the proverbial rock and a hard place.
“No, I really will be alright, you can’t come, Dad,” he persisted. Jonathon stood from the couch and began to make his retreat from the room and the confrontation.
“Dear, I think it’s been decided,” Julianne called after him. “If you want a few days to clear your head, then that’s fine, but your father is going with you. I’m going to take care of Lucy, but Henry is going to take care of you.”
Jonathon stopped but did not turn to look back. “But, Mom, I—”
“It’s settled, Jonathon,” Julianne snapped. “Not another word about it.”
***
Jonathon crept into the darkened master bedroom where he thought Lucy would be sleeping. She wasn’t sleeping, but instead watching an episode of 60 Minutes. As Mike Wallace carried on about some middle-eastern terrorist named Bin Laden, Jonathon sat down on the bed beside her. She glanced over at him and offered her hand. He gently took it and brought it to the side of his face. The soft, warm skin against his face brought a great feeling of comfort over him and with it came a pang of sadness and guilt. He did not want to leave her, and this moment was making it even harder. Despite his best efforts to fight it off, a single tear rolled from the corner of his eye and onto Lucy’s hand.
