Prehistoric: (A Prehistoric Thriller) (Bick Downs Book 1)

by Michael Esola

  Frederick looked up towards the stands. He could see that solar bamboo torches also ringed the circular amphitheater at the top as well, giving the whole area a sort of medieval vibe.

  “Any plans,” Frederick said, standing next to Jamison who was busy gazing up at the full moon.

  “Well,” Jamison replied. “I say we experience the entire night here, see what this place is like when the lights go out, and ultimately see why a tourist would want to pay top dollar to come to Corstine’s little invention here.”

  “I second that,” Ridley said. “Before I throw my hard earned dollars into something, I want to see it from the angle of the consumer, the potential customer, the family that has saved up the entire year for a trip like this. I want to look at things from the end-users perspective.”

  A vibration, although not massive, but big enough to register beneath their feet, suddenly caught them off guard, causing an uncomfortable ripple through the human body. No one budged. Ten seconds passed before another vibration could be felt beneath their feet, this time more intense, and it seemed to be getting closer.

  Suddenly, like a tidal wave of repressed and potential energy, something began moving straight for them beneath the boardwalk.

  “Quick to the stands,” Jamison shouted, but it was too late.

  Huge lumbering breaths of air heaved in and out. There was a wheezing whir of a sound at the end of each breath. The scent of rotting and decaying meat wafted its way up through the cracks and openings in the boards of the boardwalk. Something large was hanging directly beneath them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Nat pulled Downs back just as something lashed out at them with startling speed. Downs stumbled backwards, instantly losing visual sight of Nat and the others.

  As Downs rose to his feet, he noticed a smattering of a foamy substance across the front of his shirt. Nat was behind him as she stumbled to get up as well.

  “What the hell was that?” her voice quivered, grabbing his shoulders from behind and peering out towards the green.

  Downs’ shirt was wet with a spittle type of substance, as if he had been licked. A whirring and clacking sound rang out from inside the trees as the vegetation shook and rumbled with life. Josiah and Max’s headlamps were both on full bore, as the light shone brightly on the shaking patch of vegetation. The whirring and clacking sound appeared to be retreating as the light continued to shine brightly on the scene.

  Nat’s eyes were still wide with terror, wide like some type of nocturnal creature out and about in the heart of the night.

  They continued to stare and listen, until the whirring and clacking was all but a faint whisper in the jungle air. Suddenly, the faint whisper eventually turned to nothingness as the accompanying sounds of the jungle came back to their usual audible level as if someone had slowly turned the volume back up.

  Max turned and looked at Downs’ shirt and was just about to reach for his Swiss Army knife when he scratched that thought entirely. Instead he reached out with his hand towards the foamy spittle. It was warm to the touch.

  “Warm blooded,” Max mumbled to himself.

  “Perhaps you should have taken that knife out. Something’s out there,” Josiah muttered in fear. “Something’s been out there, and it’s not going away.”

  “A tongue,” Downs said. “Something licked me. A big slobbering tongue burst out from the trees and knocked me to the ground.”

  Max’s face crumpled up into one of complete concentration, though it hinged more on the fear side of things. “Just going through a mental catalogue of species in my head would lead me to believe we’re dealing with something new to science here. Most likely some sort of undocumented species, and if that tooth is indeed linked to it, we’re dealing with something big, a predator, a carnivore, an apex predator at the top of the food chain, at the very top of the canopy here.”

  A branch suddenly snapped from somewhere out in the canopy. The conversation died down as the group listened. At first there was nothing, but the whirring and clacking sound soon returned.

  “Is something being dragged?” Josiah whispered.

  Max took the question. “Sure as hell sounds like it. Like something is being dragged by another something through the trees.”

  The words out of Max’s mouth needed no deciphering, no processing. The audible sounds before them supported Max’s observation. Something of substantial size was being forced and ripped against its will through the vegetation and branches by an equally bigger “something.”

  Max held up his finger. “It’s getting further away from us.”

  The sound of breaking branches kept moving further and further away but was still distinguishable nonetheless. This was followed by a short-lived violent struggle, and directly after that a high pitched shriek of a scream cut through the air.

  The treetops fell silent.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The attackers came at William Jamison and the others with both speed and aggression, traveling low to the ground, propelling themselves forward with their long front limbs and powerful hind limbs. Though they were juveniles and small, they were still deadly, nonetheless. That coupled with their ferocious appetite and need to constantly keep honing their skills as a top apex predator, made for an explosive combination. One day they would grow to massive size, but for now they were dog-sized and moved extremely fast as they raced forward, their three-toed-padded feet making them not the most graceful of runners, but they were still adept at moving quickly, nonetheless.

  Jamison saw everything playing out, courtesy of his headlamp, as if he were back on the hardwood floors of the NBA. Frederick and Ridley were spaced out to essentially where the three point line would be, and there were four aggressive pursuers coming straight for him, as if his body itself represented the basket. Jamison reached for something that neither of his two colleagues had known he had been carrying all along. Out of the side of one of his deep cargo shorts pockets, he extracted a 9 inch extreme tactical kukri knife. One of the youngsters was headed his way, and fast at that.

  It exploded from the ground, catapulting itself up and into the air, seeming to be on a crash collision with Jamison’s jugular. Jamison performed a series of intricate maneuvers with the knife before he thrust the blade into the soft under-region of the little creature. The kukri knife sunk deep into the neck, the creature howling in intense pain as Jamison surgically retracted the weapon.

  The creature hit the boardwalk and was sent skidding, its legs now rendered useless as it slid towards the edge. Jamison quickly saw his opportunity and seized it. With several large and commanding steps, he bounded forward towards the skidding youngster and booted it as if it were a soccer ball.

  The power with which his right foot struck the creature undoubtedly crippled it, sending the screaming little thing over the edge of the boardwalk as it plummeted and fell away into darkness.

  Quickly Jamison spun around to assess the situation. There should have only been three left, but his eyes suddenly registered five. Two others must have come out of the vegetation from somewhere.

  With the bloody kukri knife still in his hand, he began sprinting towards Ridley who was in over his head with three of the small creatures now pursuing him. However, as he made his way, the corner of his right eye caught the tail end of Frederick making a bee line as fast as his slightly out-of-shape body could muster.

  Jamison’s eyes darted back to Ridley, and that was all it took. He sprinted all out in that direction, the knife ready to attack at a moment’s notice. One of the creatures propelled itself up off the boardwalk and towards the stomach region of Ridley Bells. It’s talons were outstretched and Jamison could see it was trying to rip the television mogul wide open.

  Jamison slashed at the right hind limb of the little creature, drawing blood and delivering a deep gash, but not severing it as the creature continued to sail through the air. Ridley performed an athletic move that seemed more complicated than he was capable of, hitting
the ground and rolling as if it were a routine fire drill.

  As if on some predestined course of action, the creature could not stop its intended route, and it went flying over Ridley as he was still performing his drop-and-roll tactic. The creature hit the boardwalk and immediately was sent skidding, but this time it was able to stop itself just short of the edge. It regained its momentum and was heading towards Ridley again, but the man was already up and to his feet. Jamison was on it quickly though, wielding the kukri knife like the thing never left his side, but now there were three of the creatures in hot pursuit of him.

  Frederick’s urgent voice rang out from somewhere. “Over here.”

  Jamison, only seconds earlier, had spotted Frederick doing something that he couldn’t have imagined and which seemed highly improbable, but he wasn’t about to question it at this point. Only moments prior, Frederick hurried over to an area in the amphitheater cordoned off by rope with a sign that read: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT.

  Frederick found what seemed to be a trap door that led down to an area beneath the boardwalk, possibly a storage unit. Ridley saw it as well and headed in that direction. Jamison followed closely, yet the three creatures were upon him.

  Jamison had no time to raise the kukri knife, as a mouthful of hungry teeth went hurtling through the air towards him. Doing the only thing he could muster, he lifted up his massive right forearm and closed his hand tightly into a fist, delivering a swift punch to the side of the animal, yet it still raked his exposed skin on his forearm with its teeth and talons on its back limbs.

  The creature was batted down from the air, like a football in the NFL being swatted down by an aggressive defender. Jamison watched momentarily as the creature hit the deck, but instead of resurrecting to its feet, something happened, something Jamison himself didn’t see coming. The other two of its kind turned on it in an act of true cannibalism, taking full advantage of the situation of their unfortunate fallen comrade.

  Jamison hung around just long enough to witness the two as they ripped into the other, using their impressive arsenal of teeth and already sharp talons for nothing more than pure killing. The dog-sized creature that had initially launched an aerial attack against Jamison was being eaten alive as it thrashed about wildly on its back. Jamison watched with horror as one of the creatures gouged its comrade’s eyes out while the other pulled the forked lizard-like tongue straight from the screaming youngster’s mouth.

  Jamison’s mind snapped him back into action, and with that he headed for the trap door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “Mr. Corstine, are you here?” Collin Fairbanks called out, still seated in front of the computer monitor as he toggled back and forth between one security camera after another. The whole scene was nothing more than a blatant attempt to make it look like he was diligently working. “Sir, are you here?”

  Collin stood to his feet as his back cracked, his eyes sick of looking at the same stupid monitor screen for hours on end. Just to be certain he was indeed alone he called out once more. “Sir?”

  The silence confirmed what he already knew. John Corstine had left the building once again. He wasn’t quite certain when, but by now he predicted that Corstine was drinking his favorite adult libation, red sangria from the comfort of his bungalow patio.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, Elvis has left the building,” Collin joked with a sarcastic smile.

  Corstine’s assistant left behind the computer monitors with their varying views of different security cameras as he made his way, but before he officially exited the room he took one last look back towards the monitor.

  “If he needs security, why the hell doesn’t he hire the staff necessary to pull off such a feat,” he muttered to himself in disgust. “Cheap bastard. Should have purchased the domain name www.Cheapest.com way back in the day and built an online memorial to himself. Flipping unbelievable.”

  Collin shook his head once more in disgust and exited the room. He hated picking up the slack for what he commonly referred to as Corstine’s shrewdness. Although Collin himself had never actively built and put together a company, he was acutely aware of how one would have to be shrewd in terms of spending capital judiciously if one were to succeed in the business landscape at large. Despite this though, he believed Corstine was being too cheap, cutting far too many corners, that in the end would essentially come back to burn them as well as ultimately spell doom for the boardwalk. There had to be a limit, and he believed Corstine had already treaded close to the edge, crossing that limit, and was now in freefall.

  Collin smiled and chuckled quietly to himself while at the same time patting himself on the back for exploiting some of Corstine’s cheapness. Corstine had failed to set up a better system of checks and balances, and with Collin essentially needing no signature other than his own to sign checks, he had free reign over the readily available capital which had been set aside to fund the early stages of the boardwalk.

  What Corstine didn’t know, whether out of sheer neglect or stupidity, or the possibility of simply being too busy, was that the pullout by several of his investors was not the only hit to his direct capital pipeline. Collin Fairbanks had been stealing from him for going on two years now, not stealing in a major sense, but still stealing nonetheless. Collin started out small, seeing whether Corstine would notice the modest amounts of cash being siphoned out each month. When nearly seven thousand dollars was stolen over the course of two months, Collin decided it was time to up the ante a bit.

  Collin had heard of the rush that thieves often spoke of when they robbed a bank or even a convenience store, and he was starting to feel the intoxicating effects of that very rush. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before, the pure rush of stealing but more importantly stealing and getting away with it.

  Just thinking about the fact that he had gotten away with stealing from Corstine’s vast fortune for the better part of two years, gave him goose bumps and a rush the likes of which he knew he may never experience again in his lifetime. He took several deep breaths, wanting to remain cool, calm, and collected for his next set of intricate maneuvers. He would need to keep his wits about him in order to pull it all off.

  The thought of $1.1 million in one shot was enough to send his pulse skyrocketing through the roof. Quickly his mind harkened back to his days of working in the sales world, making $22,000 per year plus commission.

  Plus commission, he thought to himself. What a flippin’ joke.

  Collin had been an Account Executive for a computer startup company called Creative Computing Solutions, Inc. Over the course of nine months he had worked his way up to Senior Account Executive, a title as well as an achievement that heralded great praise from those around him. Yet he wasn’t happy; the long hours and the low pay led to a demoralizing outlook on life. Coupled with the fact that the company refused to offer him stock options angered him to the core.

  The jump from Account Executive to Senior Account Executive meant he saw his pay increase from $22,000 to $30,000 per year, a far cry from the high six figure salaries that he saw many of his close friends making. He needed an out so he quit and moved back to Nebraska with his parents.

  It was there in Omaha, Nebraska, that he happened upon a chance encounter with John Corstine. He didn’t actually meet Corstine first but he had met one of Corstine’s business partners who took quite a fancy to the young Nebraskan’s command of the English language as well as the way he carried himself. To put it in the words of the business partner, “I like the way you carry yourself, young man. Keep that up and you just may be the boss of many one day.”

  Collin had never been one to want to grow in a company to a position of power. Yet upon meeting Corstine he happily lied, citing that he was hungry to start at the bottom and work his way to the top. That was precisely the response that Corstine must have been looking for, because after a quick period that literally consisted of a couple of phone calls, Corstine asked him to be his personal assistant
.

  With the hiring, Collin once again worked his magic, convincing Corstine that he was up to the task of managing several new and emerging revenue streams that Corstine’s company currently had in the works. It was planned for Collin to play an instrumental role in the launch and early stages of Ecological Television, but for now Corstine had tasked Collin with helping him to get the boardwalk fully funded and up and running. He had even gone to meetings in Denver, New York, and Chicago. Each time he with a different group of investors, and he tried to persuade them that plopping down large sums of money into the boardwalk was indeed a sound business move.

  Collin had failed each and every time he went out and pitched the boardwalk to investors, but Corstine liked his can-do attitude and kept him on the task of raising private money. Corstine viewed himself, ultimately, as the best scavenger for the job, taking money from any source he could and not overlooking anyone as a potential investor.

  Collin remembered the time when Corstine had traveled to the Tenderloin district of San Francisco, a dangerous part of the city known for its seedy characters and drug dealers. Corstine had happily made his way to the fifth floor of an old and extremely dilapidated apartment building, opting to take the stairs for fear of encountering problems in the run down and neglected elevator shaft.

  Collin could still vividly recall Corstine recanting the idea that one never knew the financial standing of someone, despite the outward or physical appearance that he or she may have portrayed to the world. The fifth floor of that old and dilapidated apartment building was occupied by a man with a net worth just shy of $50 million, and on that grim San Francisco day, he cut Corstine a check for $5 million dollars for one of his business endeavors.