by C. G. Mosley
“We’ve got to get on board,” he said, looking back at Jonathon.
“What? Why?” Jonathon asked. “Why can’t you just shoot it?”
Hardcastle shook his head and laid the gun down. “Those partitions on the lower deck are blocking my shot for one thing,” he explained. “Also, there is a young girl that is mere feet away from that thing’s jaws. Even if I got a dart into it, the effects are not immediate. We’ve got to get over there now or that girl will die.”
Jonathon clenched his jaw and immediately revved the tiny boat’s engine. He had no idea what they were going to do once they got there, but if they didn’t act fast, more people were definitely going to die. The small vessel was moving so rapidly that both Jonathon and Hardcastle had to place a hand on top of their heads to keep their hats from blowing off. The air was somewhat chilly and Jonathon shivered, although he couldn’t tell if it was from fear or the cool air. As they drew nearer, he had a much clearer picture of what was going on. The young girl was screaming as she continued to slowly slide down the slope of the weighted-down ferry. Her mother was screaming in a panic and clearly wanted to go after her daughter. In fact, the only thing stopping her seemed to be a couple of male passengers that were holding her back against her will.
Jonathon steered the tiny boat alongside the ferry and both men immediately jumped onto the deck. “Get her up the steps!” Jonathon yelled to the men that were holding back the girl’s mother.
“NO!” she screamed. “I will not go without my daughter!”
The woman thrashed violently and clawed at the men so severely she drew blood. Yet somehow, they managed to drag her up the stairs as her daughter screamed after her.
Glenn Hardcastle quickly scrambled down toward the girl, but as soon as he did so, his feet slipped out from under him on the wet deck. As he slid fast toward the open maw of the Sarcosuchus, he managed to reach over and grab one of the partitions near the edge of the deck. The rear of the ferry seemed to slope even further as the large animal managed to get a little bit more of its body on board. Jonathon grabbed the stair railing to keep from sliding. The young girl slid dangerously closer to her death.
“Reach for my foot!” Hardcastle shouted at her. “Grab my foot!”
The girl looked up the slope at him, her eyes filled with terror. When Hardcastle first looked into her eyes, he thought she was surely going to die. Her eyes seemed to suggest that she’d given up and accepted her fate.
“Come on, girl!” he yelled. “Dig your nails into the deck and claw your way up here!”
The girl looked back at the snapping jaws of the Sarcosuchus, only mere feet from her now. She then did as Hardcastle suggested and dug her nails and the toes of her shoes into the deck in a desperate attempt to climb up the slippery incline.
“That’s it,” Hardcastle said excitedly. “Keep it up, you’re doing it!”
Jonathon watched the scene unfold and felt a terrible sense of dread. In his mind’s eye, he could see the injured girl almost make it to Glenn only to lose her grip at the last moment and tumble into the jaws of the Sarcosuchus. He could then picture Hardcastle going after her, only to be eaten alive as well. And all of this would occur while he stayed clutching tightly to the railing of the steps.
“This isn’t going to work,” he said aloud. He’d intended to only think it, but somehow he spoke the words before he knew what was happening.
Hardcastle glared up at him with fury. “Shut your damn mouth!” he growled. “She’s doing it!”
Jonathon looked past Hardcastle and noticed the girl had probably moved a grand total of two feet since she’d begun her ascent. One slip and it would all be over. Jonathon had studied alligators and crocodiles for a couple of years early in his career. After all, they were probably the closest living animals to dinosaurs that existed today. He’d spent a lot of time in the bayou of Louisiana and had once gone on an alligator hunting trip. During the months of August and September, alligator harvesting is permitted in the state to control the population. Desperate for a chance to see the animals up close and in the wild, Jonathon joined an alligator hunter and gotten more than he’d bargained for. The old man had been hunting alligators for years and knew all the tricks of the trade. On that particular day, he and the old man managed to bag three alligators. The old hunter had taught him about a “kill spot” on the back of the alligator’s skull. Supposedly, if a bullet or knife was projected into the quarter-sized kill spot, it would provide a direct route into the animal’s tiny brain, disabling it instantly.
As Jonathon watched the young girl struggle to make her way up the deck, he remembered Hardcastle jokingly suggesting that his knife was their only means of killing the animal once and for all. As he thought back to the old hunter that showed him exactly where the sweet spot was on the back of the alligator skull, he realized there was really only one shot at getting everyone off the ferry alive. And it was all up to him.
Jonathon looked above him and scanned the environment for something to grab onto. The only thing he could see was the conduit for the fluorescent lighting and, though he wasn’t confident it would hold him, he decided it was his only option. Once he climbed high enough up the stairs to leap for it, he did so successfully and immediately felt it bend under his weight. Although the conduit bent with each grasp forward he made, it held together and soon after he’d shimmied into position above the thrashing the crocodile.
As he’s suspected, the girl had made no more progress since he’d made his decision to try and kill the dinosaur. He also noticed that Hardcastle had spotted him and was staring up at him with astonishment. He said nothing, and Jonathon couldn’t tell if he remained silent to keep from breaking the girl’s concentration or if he was truly shocked speechless at the feat.
Jonathon held onto the conduit with one hand and retrieved his knife with the other. He placed it in his teeth and bit down hard. He knew that if he dropped the knife, the consequences would be deadly. For a brief moment, he thought back to the last time he’d used the knife to kill a dinosaur. It was the first time he’d ever arrived on the island. A Dromaeosaurus attacked him and he’d been forced to stab the dinosaur in the skull.
You can do this, he thought.
Once he was satisfied that he was in the best possible position, Jonathon dropped from the ceiling and landed onto the back of the Sarcosuchus. The animal immediately noticed his presence and instinctively tried to turn its head back toward him. Unable to reach him, the animal then began thrashing wildly and, much to Jonathon’s dismay, it began to retreat back into the water.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Jonathon growled through his teeth still clenched on the knife blade. He dug his fingernails into the slippery back of the animal but every time he tried to free one hand to grab the knife, he was unable to do so for risk of falling off. The animal continued to shimmy backwards and was beginning to make rapid progress back into the water. Jonathon decided if he was going to kill the prehistoric crocodile, it was now or never. He knew if there was any chance for success, he’d have to be quick.
He eyed the “kill spot” on the back of the animal’s skull and with one quick motion, he released the animal with both hands, grabbed the knife, and plunged it deep into the dinosaur’s flesh. For the first time, Jonathon heard the animal let out a roar that he didn’t think the animal was capable of. It flailed backward through the air, throwing him off of it.
Jonathon estimated he’d flown about thirty feet through the air and had landed in the river. He was now treading water, and though the water was bitterly cold, his adrenaline was running too high to notice. Immediately, he realized his knife was still plunged into the back of the animal’s skull, but to his horror, the creature was not dead. His mind quickly contemplated what his options were as the Sarcosuchus began to swim rapidly in his direction. Jonathon quickly decided the only option he had left was to flee.
Although in the back of his mind he knew it was useless, he began to swim with all the speed h
is adrenaline-fueled body could muster. He estimated that the river bank was another 150 feet away. He wasn’t going to make it…there was just no way. Though his mind had given up, his body refused and he kept swimming. He began to feel some turbulence in the water behind him and he knew at any second he’d be swallowed whole—or bitten in half at the very least.
Suddenly, as it seemed all hope was lost, Jonathon heard an eruption of gunfire behind him. There was frantic splashing behind him as well and he suddenly realized that the animal was being shot. Jonathon didn’t stop swimming until he heard the gunfire and the splashing cease…only then did he dare to look back. When he did, he was pleased to see that the National Guard had finally made their approach by boat and quickly disposed of the Sarcosuchus. The large animal had become shiny with blood and had rolled over onto its back…but somehow it was still floating.
Jonathon breathed a deep sigh of relief as he slowly turned and continued his swim toward the bank. Cold is going to be pissed, he thought.
***
“How is the girl?” Jonathon asked, his teeth chattering.
He was seated over the rear bumper of an ambulance, his clothes still dripping wet. An EMT draped a heavy gray blanket over and around his shoulders and, though it helped, he was still unable to keep his teeth from chattering.
“The girl is fine,” Mr. Cold said, his gaze focused on the lifeless body of the prehistoric crocodile that had just been pulled from the river. “Her father is apparently some big shot lawyer here in New Orleans,” he added, finally turning to look at Jonathon. “He’ll probably sue us for every penny he can get.”
Jonathon’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I can’t say that I would blame them,” he replied, annoyed. “You had multiple opportunities to stop that thing sooner and didn’t. It’s an absolute miracle that no one else got killed.”
Mr. Cold put his hands in coat pockets and bit his lower lip. “You still fail to grasp the importance of what we’re trying to do,” he said defiantly. “There is a wealth of information that we can get from studying these animals…information that can be used to—”
“I know, I know,” Jonathon interrupted, holding up a dismissive hand. “They could hold the key to ensuring the future survival of the human race. I heard you the first time,” he groaned.
“And yet you still question our motives?” Mr. Cold asked.
Jonathon shrugged. “I said I heard you…I never said I believe you.”
Mr. Cold took a deep breath through his nose, anger clearly welling up in him. He stared at Jonathon for a few seconds before finally shaking his head and casually strolling away.
“Are you trying to make him snap your neck?” Hardcastle asked, stepping out of the shadows.
Jonathon grinned and shook his head. “Nah, I’m just letting him know I’m not buying the load of B.S. he’s trying to sell me,” he answered.
Glenn Hardcastle leaned against the rear corner of the ambulance and crossed his arms. “Well, just keep in mind that Cold is in the C.I.A.,” he said. “I’m pretty sure if he gets tired of you, he can have you killed.”
Jonathon laughed, although part of him thought Hardcastle was very serious.
“What you did back there took guts,” Hardcastle continued. “I didn’t know you had that in you.”
Jonathon pulled the blanket tighter around him. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said, turning his attention to the dead Sarcosuchus. “What do you think they’re going to do with it?”
Hardcastle shrugged, removed his hat, and ran his fingers through his sandy blond hair. “Probably send it to a lab and cut it into a million pieces.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Jonathon replied. “I’m starting to regret showing them where the island is. There’s no telling what they’ve got planned for those animals.”
Hardcastle shook his head. “You don’t regret it,” he countered. “Your wife may not be here if you hadn’t shown him.”
Jonathon sighed and knew Hardcastle was at least partially right. He had agreed to show Mr. Cold where the island was in exchange for a cure for his wife Lucy’s cancer. What Hardcastle and Mr. Cold didn’t know was that Jonathon had brought back a small vial of water he’d taken from the island. The vial of water had been taken from the fountain of youth and, to his knowledge, neither of the men knew of its existence either. Had they known, they would’ve been aware of how the dinosaurs had managed to escape extinction. If Cold hadn’t made the deal to give Lucy the cure for her cancer, Jonathon was fully prepared to cure her with the vial of water—even if it meant immortality for her.
“You’re right,” he said finally. “I don’t regret doing what I had to do to keep Lucy alive.”
“He’s not done with you,” Hardcastle said. “You know that, right?”
Jonathon’s eyes narrowed as he looked up at Hardcastle. “Well, I’m done with him,” he said flatly.
Chapter 3
September 13th, 1994
“It’s been two years since the government got involved. I’m just asking you to consider it, that’s all,” Silas suggested, a hint of desperation in his voice.
Jonathon thought he sounded as if he were practically begging. He sighed and said, “Look, old friend, I’m not saying no…I’m just saying not right now.”
Silas leaned back in his cushy office chair, a look of dejection on his face. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re still a young man. I’m not only aging, I’m broken,” he grumbled. The older man was dressed in his trademark cargo shorts along with a brown button-up shirt. For the first time since Jonathon had known him, he wasn’t wearing a hat. His hair was now entirely gray and thinning.
Jonathon smiled and glanced over at the cane leaning against the wood-paneled wall. Silas had narrowly survived the injuries he’d sustained from the gunshot he received during their last trip to the island. Unfortunately, the bullet that Glenn Hardcastle had fired into his leg had caused permanent nerve damage and shattered part of his femur. Doctors had told him he’d never be able to walk without the assistance of a cane again.
“You’re not broken,” Jonathon argued. “You’re the strongest guy I’ve ever met. I mean that.”
Silas took a deep breath and allowed himself to smile slightly. “Well, I appreciate that, pal.”
“Sooner or later, the public is going to find out about the island,” Jonathon said. “And when that happens, I say we go all in on the book you’re suggesting. But until that happens, if we tell the world our story, it’s going to bring a lot of unintended consequences.”
“Like what?” Silas asked, clearly not buying it.
“First off, how do you think Cold and his cronies are going to respond to it?” Jonathon asked. “They’ve made it clear that they want us to stay tight-lipped about it while they do whatever the hell it is that they’re doing over there. If we talk, they’re going to come after us, and I don’t trust that guy.”
Silas arched an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting that you think he’d have us killed?”
Jonathon shrugged. “I’m saying I’m not sure what he would do. And to me, it’s just not worth the risk. He’s already pissed at me for refusing to take part in any of the experiments they’re performing on the island.”
Silas eyed him suspiciously. “And you don’t know what they’re doing?”
“Of course I don’t,” he replied. “When the incident was going on in New Orleans with the Sarcosuchus, I can remember Glenn Hardcastle telling me rather adamantly that he thought Cold’s interest in the dinosaurs had something to do with weaponizing them.”
Silas nodded. “I could see that,” he said. “Do you think that’s what is going on?”
Jonathon sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “I certainly hope not,” he replied. “Even if that is what’s going on, I don’t see how it could work. Most of the carnivores are nothing more than killing machines…a lot like sharks really. Have you ever seen them train a shark at Sea World?”
Silas shook hi
s head and then stared off toward a window that provided a nice view of the large fountain in front of his home. He seemed to be thinking hard about what Jonathon had just said.
“Silas…what is it?” Jonathon asked, noticing his strange change in demeanor.
Silas looked back over to him and Jonathon could see that something was troubling him. “Did you ever ask your dad what we went through to get that vial of water from the fountain?” he asked.
Jonathon furrowed his brow as he considered the question. “I don’t think I’ve ever thought a lot about it,” he said. “We’ve never discussed it.”
“Well, there was so much going on, I can see why it probably never crossed your mind,” Silas said. “Do you remember the time that we went into the cave to stop Angus Wedgeworth?”
Jonathon nodded. “How could I ever forget that crazy lunatic?” he said. “Yes, I remember there being a few Troodons in there…” his words trailed off as he thought back. He could remember the Troodons surrounding them and Osvaldo, the man that had been cursed with immortality, sacrificed himself so that they could escape. Suddenly, he found himself wondering how his father and Silas managed to get the vial of water all alone.
“How on earth were you two able to get the water out of the fountain and get out of there alive?” Jonathon asked.
Silas smiled. “Well, I’ve been waiting two years for you to ask me that question,” he replied. “When we arrived at the cave, I warned Henry about the Troodons. I told him that you’d said they were some of the most intelligent dinosaurs on the island and that they’d been aggressive the last time we’d encountered them.”
