by C. G. Mosley
Chapter 14
“Wake up!” Harley shouted.
She slapped Jonathon hard across the face and he immediately sat straight up. For a few moments, he felt the most disoriented feeling he’d ever experienced in his entire life. He looked around in all directions and quickly realized he was on a beach. At first, he considered the strong possibility that he was dreaming, but then he noticed the mist surrounding the island and reality came crashing back.
“Are you alright?” Harley asked. Her mirrored sunglasses were long gone and there was blood smeared across her face. It was even in her hair.
“I’m fine,” Jonathon replied, but as he spoke, he felt a burning sensation originating from his cheek. He reached up and felt a deep gash in his face. When he looked at his fingers, they were covered in blood. “Oh my God,” he muttered with a gasp. Suddenly, he remembered the pterosaur.
“It looks bad,” Harley said. She was squinting and looking closely at the wound. “It’s definitely going to need stitches. Your face will never look the same,” she said with a mischievous smirk.
As bad as his face felt, he was glad to see Harley smirking. It told him that she didn’t think his injury was anything to be too concerned about for the time being.
“What happened to the pterosaur?” Jonathon asked. “And how in the world are we not dead? The last thing I remember was our chute getting torn apart and we were freefalling again.”
Harley was now standing over him. She was redoing her ponytail as her hair had become quite disheveled from the ordeal they’d just endured.
“Well,” she began. “For starters, that dino-bird that attacked us became tangled up in the chute and it never got free. It’s currently somewhere out there,” she said, gesturing toward the sea. “We landed just in time for me to see it sink beneath the waves. It’ll probably wash up here later.”
Jonathon looked out to the rolling waves and squinted his eyes. He scanned the waters but saw no sign of a dead pterosaur or a parachute.
“Okay, that makes sense,” he said, returning his attention to her. “Now, how are we not joining that thing in the afterlife right now?”
Harley smiled, seemingly taking it as a good sign that Jonathon still had a sense of humor. “Well, that thing fell on top of us, its claws cut into my scalp, but it got your face a lot worse. You took a hard-enough hit that I guess it knocked you unconscious. It was about that time that I went for the reserve chute and when it deployed, we immediately decelerated, but the bird kept on falling.” She slapped her hands together to illustrate the pterosaur’s impact with the water.
“Wow,” he responded, trying to picture it all in his mind’s eye. “In that case, I’m glad I got knocked out. Where are the others?”
Harley jerked the radio off her belt. “I was just about to check on that,” she said, holding the gadget up to her mouth. “Guys, we had a little complication that put us off target, but we are safe on the ground. I need everyone to check in right now, over.”
After a brief silence, the radio crackled to life. “This is Victor, I’ve got Cliff with me and we’re on target, over…”
Harley smiled and seemed happy to hear his voice. “Keep your current position, we will make our way to you. Hank, you out there? Over…”
The radio remained silent, and at that moment, they could hear the distant rumbling of the prop plane they’d just jumped out of. Cold was apparently making his flyby to check to see if they were all on target. She and Jonathon scanned the sky in all directions for a visual of the plane but finally decided that the trees must have been blocking their view from their current position. Harley was just about to try and radio Hank again when suddenly the pitch of the plane’s engines changed dramatically. Though they were still unable to see it, the plane was almost certainly in trouble.
“Victor, what’s going on with the plane?” Harley asked, the pitch of her voice rising with excitement.
“They’ve hit something!” Victor screamed in reply. “Or something hit it! They’re going down! They’re crashing!”
Jonathon had not known Victor for very long, but he could tell that whatever he was seeing had made him very distraught. He and Harley stood on the beach, still staring at the blank sky. The emotions they felt were a combination of fear and helplessness. They could only stand and listen as the plane plummeted to the earth. Seconds later, there was a loud crash followed shortly by a plume of black smoke.
“We’ve got to get to them!” Harley shouted, and she immediately began running.
“Wait!” Jonathon said, grabbing her arm.
She whirled around and looked at him, wild-eyed. “Wait for what?” she asked, dumbfounded. “They’re in trouble…they could be seriously injured!”
“Or they could be dead!” Jonathon shouted back.
The statement seemed to strike Harley like a slap to the face. “You don’t know that,” she replied, disgusted. “If there is any chance of saving them, we’ve got to move…now!”
Jonathon held his hands up in an apologetic manner. “Look, it’s not that I don’t want to go rushing over there and help them,” he explained. “But you’ve got to remember that there are some pretty mean monsters on this island that will immediately start moving toward that crash site.” He took his hand and cupped it over his eyes as he gazed at the horizon over the tree line. “Based on where that smoke is billowing, I’m pretty sure that they crashed somewhere near the tyrannosaur’s territory. There are several and we won’t stand a chance against them!”
Harley clenched her jaw and gritted her teeth. Jonathon could see that she was beginning to see his point, but she was reluctant to admit it.
“So, you’re suggesting we just let them die?” she asked bitterly.
“At the compound, there are armored jeeps that we can use to try and take a shot at rescuing them—if they are indeed alive,” he said. “Not to mention, you’ve got two other men over there that are armed and can help with the effort—and trust me, we’ll need all the help we can get.”
Harley pursed her lips and thought for a moment. Finally, she spoke into the radio. “Victor, do you have a visual on the crash site?”
Static…then, “No, I see thick smoke but I can’t see anything,” he replied. “Harley, if they are still in that plane, they’re cooked.”
Harley winced at his choice of words. “Well, if they’re not in the plane, they’re extremely vulnerable,” she said. “Do you have a visual on the compound?”
“Yes,” he replied. “There is still quite a bit of flood water here, but based on the waterline I’m seeing on the nearby trees, it’s receding very fast.”
Harley looked at Jonathon as she spoke to Victor again. “Do you see any vehicles on the property? Were they submerged in water?”
“Oh, hell yeah,” he answered. “I see a couple of armored trucks but there is no doubt they were underwater twenty-four hours ago.”
Harley dropped the radio from her mouth and sighed. “So there goes your armored rescue idea,” she said, glancing at Jonathon.
He took a deep breath and rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “Alright,” he said, sounding defeated. “So, let’s get to the compound and we’ll formulate a plan there. Don’t forget the reason we’re here. We need to check and see if there are survivors in the compound.”
“And I’ve got a man missing,” Harley added. “Hank is out there somewhere and we’ve got to find him too.”
She brought the radio up to her mouth again. “Victor, since you and Cliff are already there, why don’t you go ahead and check the compound for survivors. We will be there shortly.”
“10-4,” Victor replied. “Watch out for the nasty dinos…we’ve spotted a couple of little ones,” he added. “I think they’re harmless though.”
Jonathon motioned for Harley to toss him the radio. He caught it, then said. “Hey, Victor, it’s Jonathon; don’t engage any dinosaurs you see unless you’re attacked,” he warned. “Even the smaller ones that do not look d
angerous could potentially attack you if they feel threatened. There are some smaller carnivores that won’t hesitate to make a meal out of you.”
There was a brief pause, and then, “Well thanks, Doctor…I didn’t know you cared,” he replied. “We’ll refrain from petting the animals.”
Jonathon tossed the radio back. Harley immediately held it to her mouth and said, “Hank, if you’re out there and you can hear me, try and make it to the compound if you can.”
She dropped the radio by her side and waited for a long moment in hopes that she’d get some sort of reply.
“Alright, let’s get moving,” Jonathon said finally, trying to keep her focused. He retrieved his hat from his bag and pulled it onto his head. “I think the safest thing for us to do is to stick to the beach until we no longer have a choice but to cut across through the jungle.”
Harley put the strap of her assault rifle over her shoulder and nodded. “Alright,” she said. “As Cold said, you are in charge.”
Jonathon stared at her for a moment as she held the large assault rifle in a manner that suggested it was as natural to her as riding a bike. Her bare arms and shoulders were glistening from sweat and blood, but he could still see the muscle tone. Now that they were on the ground and things had gone wrong, he could clearly see that she was in her element. It comforted him. He knew the truth and refused to kid himself on the matter. If things got bad, Harley Cash would be the one in charge, and he was just fine with that.
***
Hank Bailey listened to Harley’s pleas for him to answer, but despite her worried tone, he felt no remorse when he refused to answer. He’d landed quite safely, but she—and the others—did not need to know that. This was all part of the plan, and the sooner that they accepted he was dead, the better. Hank had managed to land in the valley, and as soon as his feet hit the ground, his real mission began. He pulled the portable GPS unit from his duffel bag and took note of the distance from his present location to the cave. Had things gone perfectly, he’d have landed much closer. Unfortunately, however, as he descended he noticed a large herd of Styracosaurus lumbering toward the western side of the valley. This was one of the dinosaurs he’d been warned about. He knew that, although they were herbivores, the gentle giants could become quite vicious if they felt threatened. He took a brief moment to watch them with great amazement. The animal reminded him a lot of a Triceratops, but the frill that rose from the back of its head appeared to be much larger, mostly thanks to the spiked horns that jutted upward like a majestic crown. The dinosaur was a deep gray, the color of stone, and he imagined the creature was probably as solid as stone too.
With his rifle at the ready, Hank began trekking north toward the nearby jungle. He felt it was best—and safest—to move along the wood line and make use of the shadows to conceal his presence. He moved swiftly, and just as he’d reached the jungle canopy, he heard the sound of Cold’s distressed plane as it fell out of the sky. Hank could only stare, with his mouth gaped open, as the plane streaked by and slammed hard into the valley on the opposite side from where he was situated. Soil shot into the air and it looked as if an asteroid had just crashed into the island. Seconds later, smoke began, followed by fire.
Hank sighed and bit his lip. He felt his pulse begin to race as suddenly he began to feel the full weight of his current predicament. The only person—to his knowledge—that knew of the actual reason he was on the island, was Mr. Cold. Now, for all he knew, Cold was dead. Hank slapped a mosquito off the back of his neck and quickly decided that he had a new mission. If Cold was alive, he had to get to him—and fast.
Chapter 15
It had been a large pterosaur that had taken them down. Actually, it had been more than one, but things had happened so fast, Cold would never know exactly how many. He’d been staring out the window, watching intently for confirmation that his team had landed at their intended target. Suddenly, he heard the pilot scream, and he looked ahead just in time to see a swarm of pterosaurs flying in their path. There was no time to react.
Cold had never been involved in a plane crash before, and though he was a man known for his lack of fear, for the first time in a long time, he felt nothing but. He held onto the armrest with so much intensity that he would not have been surprised if he would have broken it. The cabin was flooded with the sickening sound of alarms and the wail of the screaming prop engines. Cold closed his eyes as he felt the plane begin to roll over as it made its terrifying quick descent. He heard the pilot call out to God and then there was a violent crash. Cold felt all of the wind leave his body and then the world went silent and dark.
He awoke gasping, but the world was still dark. It didn’t take long for Cold to realize that the world was still dark because the fuselage had quickly filled with black smoke. He felt as if there was a great weight on his chest and he tried with extreme desperation to catch his breath. Of course, with the atmosphere around him comprised of nothing but smoke, it quickly occurred to him that even if he could catch a breath, he’d still be in dire trouble. Cold was unsure of how long he’d been unconscious. Ironically, the sheer fact that he’d been unable to get a breath was probably a contributing factor to his still being alive.
With great urgency, he clawed and ripped at his seat restraint until he was free. On his hands and knees—and still involuntarily gasping for air—Cold crawled and rolled his way in the direction of the only hint of light he’d managed to see. Fortunately, the fuselage had been nearly ripped in two and Cold managed to find an opening large enough for him to clamber out. Once outside, he crawled and dragged himself through the muddy earth. He could feel the heat intensifying behind him as the plane became engulfed in flames. Again, he tried with utter desperation to take a gulp of fresh air and finally—mercifully—his lungs got the relief they needed. As he lay on his back, for the first time, he began to relax. It seemed he was going to cheat death, and though he knew there were dangerous dinosaurs all around him, he knew the others would come for him.
Cold slowly pulled himself off his back and onto his knees. He quickly removed his sport coat and tossed it aside. It was then that he noticed that one of his ordinarily white shirt sleeves had turned red. His adrenaline had undoubtedly temporarily shielded him from the pain that he immediately began to experience when he noticed the jagged piece of metal protruding from his forearm. He grimaced as he pulled the sleeve back and then went to work on removing the foreign object from his flesh. One tug forced him to scream and as he spat a curse word in disgust, he quickly reminded himself that he needed to keep quiet. The piece of metal did not budge, and though he was wounded, his current predicament would get far worse if a nasty carnivore heard him wailing in pain.
There was a moan to his right and Cold instantly noticed the pilot lying on his back, roughly thirty yards in front of the wreckage. There was a large puddle of water near him and Cold considered how fortunate the man was to not have landed there as he could’ve easily drowned.
Had he somehow been thrown from the plane? he wondered.
Cold got on his feet and jogged over to the injured pilot. Once by his side, he again dropped to his knees and scanned over his body for injuries. The man had a great deal of blood coming from somewhere at the back of his head. Cold knew head injuries always produced a great deal of blood and were often not as bad as they looked. He assumed the man at the very least had a concussion, but of course, the possibility of a fractured skull was real as well. The pilot was wearing a short-sleeved polo shirt and the next thing Cold noticed was that his wrist was severely swollen.
Probably broken, he thought.
As his eyes moved further down the pilot’s body, he came across the worst injury of all. The man was suffering from a compound fracture so severe that his leg was nearly completely severed. There was no doubt that his tibia and fibula were both completely broken as both were visible. The only thing that seemed to be holding his leg together at all was a bit of skin and muscle. Cold winced as he looked over the grueso
me injury but made sure his voice remained calm.
“You’re going to be fine,” Cold told him softly, although he himself didn’t believe it. “Just remain calm…help is on the way.”
Mr. Cold looked around as he spoke in hopes that he would indeed see a familiar face approaching. When he saw none, again his thoughts returned to the dinosaur inhabitants of the island. The fire and smoke would almost certainly draw unwanted attention from the larger animals. As he looked back toward the pilot, he experienced a revelation that made a chill run up his spine. The large puddle that the pilot had narrowly avoided landing in was actually a large three-toed print filled with water.
Tyrannosaur, he thought.
This was obviously an unwelcome sight but it gave him a clear indication of where he was on the island. Tyrannosaurs were very territorial and the ones that inhabited the island had always claimed the west-central portion of land. Clearly, he could not stay here…but leaving the pilot was not an option either. He briefly considered trying to throw the man over his shoulder and carry him away, but the burning pain in his right forearm reminded him that he was injured as well. There were guns in the plane, but as he peered over at the blazing inferno he’d just escaped, he knew he would remain unarmed. Suddenly, a deep, gruff voice called out to him from behind.
“Boss, are you alright?” Hank asked, his eyes wide with amazement. He peered at the fire-engulfed plane and then back to Mr. Cold.
Cold for his part felt an immediate sensation of relief wash over him.
“Hank,” he said, his voice raspy. “Am I ever glad to see you. We can’t stay here, there are—”
