Island Rampage: A Dinosaur Thriller

by Alex Laybourne

  “Well, overnight one of the subjects injected with strain twelve of our—” Rob began.

  “I don’t give a shit about your science mumbo-jumbo. What happened? How big is it, and can we kill it? Real details, not wizardry crap,” Hunter snapped, looking at the three men standing still, holding the bleeding doctor between them. “Get her to the infirmary, Jesus fucking wept.”

  The three men near ran from the hallway, eager to be out of range from Hunter’s notorious bad attitude.

  “One of the subjects got out of its cage. Kills another one. They showed increased levels of sexual aggression that were off the charts. We decided to terminate the entire strain. They are small, the size of a puppy. Quick, strong, but well, they are alive, so they can be killed.” Rob swallowed, unsure if his answers were going to keep the gruff security chief happy.

  “Goddammit, you science types grind my balls. Guess you expect us to clean up the mess downstairs too.” Hunter stared at Rob, who felt his body turn to jelly.

  “Um … the creatures … they have tracking devices,” Rob stuttered.

  “Tracking devices?”

  “Yeah, when we bring them in, we chip them, mainly for identification, they all look alike, you know. Anyway, they can be used for tracking too, pretty accurate, down to a few feet,” Rob spoke quicker and quicker. Excited at first, but soon merely desperate to get the words out.

  “Get back to your lab and make sure no more accidents happen.” Hunter shoved Rob out of the way and moved off down the hall. “Flewitt, Abbott, Lopez, front and centre. Looks like we are taking a walk.”

  Even after the man had disappeared, the lingering memory of his presence was an imposing object.

  Rob turned and hurried back to the lab. He knew people would be anxious for an update.

  ***

  The four men stood in silence, waiting for the outer gate to open. The central building’s fortification had a single main exit point. A double-layered gate that ensured the compound was never exposed. The exit door from the incinerator room was an emergency exit door that only opened one way, held secure by a powerful electromagnet.

  As they stood between the walls, the hum of the electrified fence was loud. The generators stood a matter of feet from them and created enough noise to rival a jet plane.

  Slowly, the main doorway opened and the jungle beyond came into view. It was the first time that any of the Black Arrow group had stepped foot beyond the compound for anything more than to empty the traps.

  The volcano towered up above them, its side covered with trees. The earth immediately beyond the compound was stripped bare and dead. Tree stumps sprouted from the ground at regular intervals, showing the progress of the construction team, but for the rest, the ground was barren.

  The trees began suddenly, and with a density that rivalled any environment Mark Hunter had ever seen. His time in both the military and Black Arrow had taken him to some of the darkest parts of the globe, yet he had never seen a jungle quite like the one on the Black Arrow Archipelago.

  “We stick together, move through the trees in a diamond formation. I’ll take point. Flewitt, I want you on the left, Abbott on the right. Lopez, I want you and that cannon of yours to bring up the rear. We don’t know what is waiting for us out there, so stay alert,” Hunter said into the microphone mounted to his helmet.

  “What are we looking for anyway?” Lopez asked. A short man with muscles atop his muscles, he was a powerhouse like no other in the unit. There was a running joke that his center of gravity was so low, he had never fallen over, not even as a child.

  “I have no clue what those guys have been doing. Unit Two I can understand, but the micro shit those guys are working with? Chemicals and viruses and shit? Fuck no, that stuff should be left alone,” Hunter snarled.

  The group moved through the trees, their footsteps crunching on the foliage-covered ground. A path appeared, and they moved to follow it. After having moved no more than a few meters into the trees, the world changed.

  It was as if they had moved through some sort of temporal rift and ended up in a different time and space. The jungle closed around them, and the compound disappeared from view.

  The sounds of jungle life sprang up. The chirp of insects and the rustle of underbrush as things scurried about close to the ground. Each new noise put the men further on edge. They knew what lived in the trees. They had seen the small creatures being caught in the scientist’s traps and had all hear the thunderous growls that came from deeper in the trees.

  Hunter led the group, his steps never faltering in spite of the nerves that were firing inside his body. He was not lying when he voiced is distrust of the scientists’ work being done in the main lab. The concept of playing with other creatures’ genetic make-up, DNA and whatever else, terrified him. Humans were not gods and had no right to act like them.

  He moved in a straight line through the trees, following the tracking device the scrawny-looking scientist had given him.

  A few meters later, it gave a beep. They were close. Stopping the group, he pointed into the trees to his right. “Abbott, we’ve got one up ahead, ten feet or so. Keep your eyes peeled.”

  “Roger that, sir,” Abbott replied.

  “Remember, shoot to kill, and keep it was quiet as possible. We don’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves,” Hunter added as an afterthought.

  “Yes, sir,” Abbott replied, pulling the silenced pistol from its holster.

  Each of the men had armed themselves with a pistol and a hunting knife. All but Lopez had chosen to carry and M16, while he chose an AA12. It was a favourite of his, and while the armoury only carried one, everybody knew to leave it for Lopez. There was even a hand-written sign with that very warning written on it posted above the weapon.

  Abbott pushed away from the group, rounding a large tree. Beyond it, he saw a small clearing. He saw nothing, but at the same time had no idea what he was looking for. The only description they had was greenish-brown, and the size of a puppy. Not much to go on, especially in a jungle filled with monsters.

  Something moved, scurrying on the periphery of his vision. Abbott spun around, but whatever he had seen, it was gone.

  Turning again, he stopped. Sitting at the base of the tree, he saw what they had been sent to find.

  The creature was crouched down on all fours, its short front legs clearly not designed or sustained use in such a fashion.

  The creature had a tail almost as long as its body, and head that looked to end in a beak. It turned its head to stare at Abbott, studying him.

  Abbott squeezed the trigger of his pistol and with a gentle whoosh, the creature’s head exploded in a cloud of blood, brain, and skull fragments.

  The creature’s now headless body crumpled into the ground a pool of blood spreading around it.

  Abbott moved through the trees and back to the group. He looked over his shoulder as he went, unable to shake the feeling that there was something else out there, watching him.

  “One down,” he said, reporting back to the group, who had moved on ahead in search of the other two escapees.

  “We are up ahead, a few hundred meters. We have one in the trees, and another on the ground. Hold back, this won’t take us long,” Hunter replied, his voice hushed.

  Abbott stopped where he was and looked around. The jungle was close, and hot. The air was misty and sweet tasting. Abbott stopped trying to wipe away the sweat from his face because the jungle offered no respite.

  Something moved in the trees around him. Abbott turned and looked, but once again, saw nothing but jungle. The trees seemed to move. It was like being stuck in a house of mirrors at a carnival. The maze of mirrored walls. Everything looked the same. It was disorienting to the point where he had to close his eyes to stop the world from spinning.

  When he opened them again, Abbott knew he was not alone. Moving only his eyes, he looked to his left. He saw the creature through the trees, the way people say ghosts can be seen o
nly when on the periphery of human vision.

  A sharp, orange-coloured eye watched Abbott, staring him down.

  “Abbott, we got one, but the other is coming back your way.” Hunter’s voice rang in his ears.

  Abbott caught his breath, flinching as he watched the creature watching him.

  “Abbott, Jesus fuck, man, answer me. The third target is heading your way. Do you copy?” Hunter’s voice boomed. The man’s normally thin patience non-existent beyond the compound walls.

  Abbott moved his hand and pressed the button to open the comms link. “I can’t talk. Hold your position,” he whispered, trying to talk without moving his lips.

  The momentary distraction offered by the communication resulted in his focus falling away from the creature in the trees. Searching, Abbott tried to find sight of it again, but all he saw were trees.

  Turning, slowly, he looked further, but the creature was gone. In spite of the heat, Abbott realized he was no longer covered in sweat.

  He knew the creature was still close by. He could feel its presence.

  “Abbott, come in, we lost you there, buddy,” Flewitt’s voice came back over the comms. “We are heading your way. Hold tight, buddy.” Paul Flewitt had known Chris Abbott for many years, yet this was only the second time they had actually worked together on a job.

  Abbott wanted to answer, to tell them once again to hold their ground, but before he could open the communication again, they appeared.

  Hunter stormed through the trees, his stride filled with purpose. His eyes targeted the frozen Abbott, but even the heat of their angry glare could not melt the terror from his limbs.

  Behind Hunter, Flewitt and Lopez emerged, moving slower, with more caution than their leader.

  “When I give you an order, you answer me, goddammit,” Hunter roared.

  Abbott wanted to reply, but there was no point. Hunter could not hear him, because his head had been swallowed by the raptor-like dinosaur that had ripped it from his body.

  The creature swallowed the head in one bite, gulping at it like a feeding crocodile, while a shower of blood slicked its belly.

  Hunter’s body remained standing, only falling when the raptor nudged it.

  A burst of gunfire from Flewitt’s M16 shattered the relative silence of the jungle. The rounds tore a fist-sized hole into the creature’s flank, punching through its body to create a tear the other side also.

  The raptor turned, raising its head to let out a battle cry. The head exploded with a whoosh as the frag grenade launched from Lopez’s AA12 landed in its mouth. The body was blown backwards into the trees, colliding with the nearest trunk with enough force to snap the creature’s spine.

  The echo of the explosion rang in Abbott’s ears, while a sticky layer of pulverised dino flesh covered his front.

  “We need to move, now.” Flewitt took charge, grabbing his friend by the shoulders, shaking him until Abbott showed signs of response. “Chris, move, we need to hightail it back to the compound.”

  No sooner had Flewitt spoke than two more raptors appeared behind them. Lopez spun, opening fire on the two, his 12-gauge unloading a burst of ten rounds in two seconds. Lopez died with his finger on the trigger, dealing a bloody death to one of the creatures as a fourth tore open his stomach, greedily swallowing the steaming organs that spewed from the gash in his belly.

  The second of the two approaching creatures had taken two rounds to the flank and had been put to the floor, where it lay gasping. Its legs kicked at the air, like a dog caught in a dream, before it fell still.

  The fourth raptor, distracted by the bounty took a double burst of hot lead, spewed simultaneously from Flewitt and Abbott’s M16’s.

  The creature managed to turn and advance on them before it stumbled under the weight of its own frame. It crashed into the mud, and was still alive as the two men ran for the compound.

  The sound of their altercation with the raptors brought the jungle to life.

  The ground seemed to rumble, and somewhere behind them, a roar made the trees shudder to the roots.

  “I think we woke something up,” Abbott said as they burst through the trees, the compound just ahead of them.

  “Shut up and run,” Flewitt panted. Not as fit as he used to be, the skirmish and run left him empty. He stumbled in the grass.

  Falling to one knee, he thrust his hands out to push his body back to a vertical base. His rifle slid forward and over his head in the process. Turning, caught in half a mind to grab the weapon, Flewitt caught sight of the creature just too late.

  It landed on him with a jump and sent him falling to the ground. The creature was a shade over hip height dug and scratched at Flewitt’s chest. The razor-sharp claws tore through the material of his uniform and bulletproof vest, down to the skin, and then deeper still.

  Strands of flayed flesh and lumps of scooped-out meat were thrown aside as the creature continued to burrow into the man’s cheek. Ribs cracked and splintered, emerging around the edges of the spreading wound like the hungry edges or the Sarlacc pit.

  Fumbling, Flewitt managed to move his pistol and fire a burst of four shots into the creature’s belly.

  The skin tore open and long, looping strands of intestines fell, covering Flewitt with their slimy gore. The stench that came from within the creature was intense. It gave a cry and fell backwards, landing on the bare ground.

  “Help me,” Flewitt called to his friend, blood bubbling from his mouth in a froth.

  “Come on, buddy,” Abbott cried, rooting for his friend to crawl away while he remained rooted to the spot.

  More of the small creatures appeared, at least half a dozen in total, from the shapes Abbott could make out.

  Flewitt clawed at the ground, dragging his mutilated body closer to the compound. He knew he was a dead man, but he would not go down without a fight.

  “Run,” he called to his friend.

  Abbott turned and fled towards the compound gates.

  Flewitt raised his pistol and tried to focus his blurring vision. He saw the shapes of the creatures closing in on him. He closed one eye, said a silent prayer to whichever deity was listening, and pulled the trigger until the weapon clicked empty.

  He tried not scream as the creatures pulled him apart, but it was a step too far. His cries were cut off when the hungry beasts reached his throat, but by then, Abbott and the men guarding the gate, had all heard enough.

  “Close it, close it,” Abbott cried as he doubled over and vomited.

  “The others?” a voice called out.

  “Dead,” Abbott replied between heaves.

  From above them, in the watch tower, gunfire rang out; a heavy burst of automatic fire. A blanket strike, no finesse or precision. They were sweeping for anything that happened to be in the line of fire.

  It seemed to take an age before the rattle of gunfire stopped. When it did, the silence was just as terrifying.

  Abbott hauled himself to his feet, and turned to look at the soldiers around him.

  “Back to your stations. We need double guards on the towers, and pump full power into the grid. I want that wall buzzing.” With Hunter and Lopez dead, command of the main compound fell to Abbott, a position he did not consider himself ready to assume.

  “Yes, sir,” the voices answered, and everybody got back to their duties.

  Abbott took himself to the lab. He was tired. He needed coffee, and cigarettes in lethal quantities, but more than both, he needed answers. He needed to understand what those things were, the creatures that escaped. One of them was still out there, and while he did not particularly want to go back outside the compound, they could ill-afford to have a genetically altered beast running amok.

  His stomach flipped and flopped at the thought of the call he needed to make back to the offices in Washington. They were pushing hard for results. Hunter had been involved in daily check-ins and meetings with the senior scientists that controlled and confirmed results over the net. Now, with Hunter’s h
eadless body decomposing beyond the compound walls, Abbott would be thrown to the lions.

  Abbott stopped in the hallway. His mind yanked away to thoughts of Hunter’s body. Would it still be in the forest? Would the creatures have come back and eaten the rest of him? What about something else? Abbott pinched himself, trying to break up the images of his overactive imagination. When that didn’t work, he raised a hand and slapped himself across the face. His cheek burned, but the image of Hunter’s shredded corpse dissolved, and the inner sanctum of the compound came into focus.

  The main lab lay to his right. The door was sealed and the windows blanked out. He knew they would be in there. The outbreak would be just as nerve-wracking for them as for the security detail.

  Abbott took a deep breath and knocked on the lab door.

  Chapter 12

  Nattie woke up in the sick bay. An IV tube extended from her left arm. Her head ached like a bad hangover. She tried to move, and everything started to ache.

  Lying back down, Nattie closed her eyes. Fog clouded her head, but she remembered everything that had happened. Turning her head, she looked at her right shoulder. A large white bandage covered her upper body. Thicker over her injuries, it extended tight across her chest and under her left arm. Old blood stained the white bandage a rust colour.

  Nattie wiggled her fingers, breathing a sigh of relief when each one moved when she tried it.

  “Ah, you are awake,” a voice spoke after a long, timeless period of solitude. In movies, the doctor or nurse always happened to walk in just as the patient was waking up. No such luck on the island.

  “Hey,” Nattie smiled, looking to find Nick standing in the doorway.

  Dressed in his uniform, he smiled when Nattie looked at him.

  “I was worried about you,” he said, walking up to the bed. Leaning down, kissing Nattie on her cheek, he paused in position for a moment, and then, when her head turned towards him, on the lips.

  “I’m tougher than I look. Those things, Strain Twelve, they escaped. They killed Ferry.” Nattie flinched, sitting upright in bed.