Terror In The Mist (The Island In The Mist Book 3)

by C. G. Mosley

  “So, what does this mean?” Hank asked, repeating the question with a tone that suggested genuine concern.

  Cold knelt beside him and waved his hand through the wisps of steam. It was extremely hot and capable of inflicting severe burns if he kept his hand there. “I don’t know,” he said softly. “I’m thinking we have days…maybe hours.”

  “Hours?” Hank asked raising an eyebrow. “Look, Cold, when I signed up for this, there was no mention that the destruction of the island was even a possibility.” He rose from his knelt position and offered a hand to pull Cold up.

  “I told you,” Cold replied as he stood. “This was not supposed to occur for another few months.”

  “Well, it’s occurring now,” Hank grumbled. “And I don’t plan on being around when all of it goes down. I think we should turn back and jet out of here.”

  Cold glared at him with annoyance. “You’ve got to be kidding?” he asked, unable to hide his disappointment. “I chose you for this because you are supposed to be a man that doesn’t rattle easily. You’re supposed to be a man that gets the job done, whatever the cost. At least that is how you sold yourself to me.”

  Hank bit his lower lip and breathed deeply through his nose. “And I meant every word of it,” he said finally. “But I’ve always performed in situations that I can control.” He gestured toward the crack in the earth. “This is not an issue that I can control. How can I guarantee that we will succeed when you don’t even know when this thing is going to blow?”

  Cold shook his head. “You work for me, Hank,” he growled. “Don’t forget that. We have time to get this done. What are we…a mile and a half from the cave now?”

  Hank retrieved the GPS unit and nodded his head as confirmation.

  “So you want to give up when we’re this close?” Cold asked. “The Hank Bailey I hired wouldn’t come this far to just give up. He’d press on and see it through.”

  Hank rolled his eyes as he came to terms with what Cold was doing. He sighed and kicked up dust with his boot. “Alright, let’s get on with it,” he spat. “You better make it work my while, Mr. Cold,” he added, pointing a finger at the older man.

  “Do your job and I will do mine,” Cold replied with no expression.

  Without another word, Hank spun on his heel and continued his trek toward the jungle foliage ahead.

  Chapter 18

  “Stop picking at it or you’re going to regret it later,” Harley said as she crouched down behind a rock with binoculars held to her face. The compound was now in view, but all her training and experience reminded her to be cautious. She would scope the location out a few minutes before they pressed on. She lowered the binoculars and looked over her shoulder to find that Jonathon had crouched down beside her, the gash on his face was causing his jaw to swell significantly.

  “It itches,” he complained. “I’m not picking at it, I’m just patting it. I’ve got to do something or I’ll end up clawing my face off. I’m starting to wonder if this is going to end up like a cat scratch.”

  Harley scrunched up her face and raised her eyebrow. “What are you talking about now?” she asked.

  “Cats are notorious for carrying all sorts of bacteria on their claws…it’s the reason why a cat scratch hurts so bad. It burns and itches and easily gets infected,” he explained. “I’m wondering if the pterosaurs claws can cause a similar reaction because I swear it feels like a big cat just scratched my face.”

  “We need to clean it,” Harley replied. “Surely there is a first-aid kit somewhere in that building,” she said, nodding toward the five-story laboratory and office.

  “Maybe,” Jonathon said. “But don’t make it a priority. Let’s find the survivors and get out of here. If we stumble across a first-aid kit, then we’ll clean it. I’ll be fine either way.”

  Harley wanted to argue, but knew it was pointless. She returned her attention to the compound, scanning the environment for any signs of dangerous dinosaurs. “I don’t see any sign of Victor or Cliff,” she said. “I’m sure that means they’re already in the building.”

  Jonathon reached for the binoculars and looked for himself. “I don’t see any signs of dinosaurs,” he said. “I think we can make it.” He lowered the binoculars and looked to the sky. “It’s going to be dark soon. We need to be in that building before nightfall. If we hurry, we may even be able to get them out and on a boat.”

  “No, we can’t,” Harley replied, snatching the binoculars back. “You’re forgetting about Hank…and I have to make sure there are no survivors at the site of the plane crash. Besides, Cold made plans for us to be picked up tomorrow at noon—although I’m sure they’ll give us extra time if needed.”

  Jonathon let out an exasperated breath. He believed with every fiber in his being that no one survived the plane crash. However, it was impossible to convince Harley of that. As for Hank, he really didn’t have high hopes for him either. Despite these strong beliefs, he tried to put himself in Harley’s position and when he did so, Jonathon knew he would not be so quick to leave one of his own behind either if there was any chance they could be alive. “Alright, then it’s settled. We get in that building, we find the survivors, and I assume we’ll find Victor and Cliff there too. We’ll remain there until morning. We get up as soon as the sun comes up and we spend no more than half the day looking. Then we leave,” he said.

  Harley chewed her lip a moment as she stared at the compound. She was clearly mulling over everything he had said. Finally, she agreed to his plan.

  “I’m serious,” Jonathon said, unconvinced that she was satisfied with an allowance of half a day of searching. “We can’t afford to stay on this island any longer than that.”

  “I know,” she snapped back at him. “I just told you that a boat is coming at noon anyway. We spend half the day looking and we leave…I got it.”

  Jonathon stared at her, but she didn’t look back. She was clearly aggravated and wanted to argue for more time, but she stood true to her word and let him have the ultimate say.

  “We’re wasting time,” she said, rising to her feet. “Let’s get in that building.”

  Jonathon rose and raced after her. As the wind hit his face, he was suddenly reminded of his itching wound. He found himself really hoping they stumbled across that first-aid kit.

  ***

  The back of Glenn Hardcastle’s shirt was wet and it wasn’t from sweat. The Velociraptor that jumped on his back had apparently cut him worse than he initially thought. That particular breed of dinosaur had notoriously sharp claws, and though he’d had many experiences with raptors, he’d never been injured by one before. He knew how the animals hunted and he silently chastised himself for being so careless. Once the hadrosaur was under attack, he shouldn’t have let his guard down. More importantly, he should’ve retreated much faster than he did instead of standing there watching the carnage. He was unsure how much blood he’d lost, and he had no way of examining the injury for himself. The unknowns of his condition added another level of stress he really didn’t need at the moment. To top it all off, there had been another earthquake. They seemed to be occurring with more frequency.

  As if this wasn’t already going to be hard enough, he thought.

  Nightfall would come in another two hours and if he didn’t make it to the bunker before then, he knew his chances of survival were slim to none. He tried to forget about his bleeding back, but the nagging stinging sensation from the open wounds would not let him. The knife that had saved his life was still clutched tightly in his hand and had now become quite sticky with raptor blood. Between the blood-stained knife, and the soaked shirt on his back, the flies undoubtedly viewed him as a dead man walking. A swarm of the flying pests hung around him now like an annoying, buzzing cloud. In his mind’s eye, he could see hundreds of the filthy creatures landing on his back and the thought made him shudder.

  As he trudged onward, he began to formulate a plan on how he was going to survive the night if he was unabl
e to find the bunker in time. A fire would provide a significant amount of protection, but unfortunately everything in the jungle around him was still soaking wet. There were no rock formations that he knew of in the vicinity that might allow him to seek refuge in a cave either. What he did have was an abundance of trees. The trees in this portion of the jungle were enormous and many of the trunks were several feet in diameter. He’d noticed quite a few of them were hollowed out and large enough for a man to crawl inside. The notion of crawling inside of a dark tree trunk full of insects and worse made him shudder, but it would be better than getting eaten alive.

  As a boy, Hardcastle was plagued with a terrible fear of the dark. His mother sympathized with him and allowed him to sleep with a dim light in his room. His father, on the other hand, generally gave him a hard time about the phobia and ridiculed him often about it. He’d never had a great relationship with his dad and hadn’t seen him in probably ten years. Hardcastle often blamed their estrangement on the resentment he was never able to overcome due to his father’s bullying him. He’d finally managed to overcome his fear of darkness shortly after he’d turned twenty years old—or so he thought. Now, for the first time in many years, the thought of being caught in the jungle at night and in total darkness began to bring him to a level of anxiety that made him nauseous.

  Or does it have something to do with how much blood I’ve lost? he wondered.

  He thought of Charlie and that imbecile Matt Walker. He had to stay focused for them. They were depending on him. The longer they remained in that building with the pack of Troodons, the more dire their situation grew. He found himself wondering what he’d do if he made it all the way to the bunker door that led into the office building, only to get no answer from either of them on the other end of the radio. Would he risk going back the way he came to see if they needed his help? Logically, if he somehow found himself in that scenario, the explanation would most likely be that they were dead. But how would he know for sure?

  I wouldn’t, he thought. Not unless I went back to check…

  As he began to contemplate how he’d deal with such a situation, he suddenly heard rustling in the dense foliage to his immediate right. He stopped dead in his tracks and he felt his pulse quicken substantially. For nearly a minute, the jungle was still and eerily quiet. He brought the knife up in front of him and held it in a defensive posture. His eyes stayed in the direction where he’d heard the movement, unblinking. He was just beginning to think that his mind was playing tricks on him, when suddenly, he saw it. A large eye blinked slowly and then Hardcastle noticed the rest of the animal’s head move slightly. It was a Velociraptor.

  They’re following me, he thought.

  The raptor seemed to sense that it had been seen, and suddenly it became still as a statue. Hardcastle knew the animals well and he knew that they did not travel or hunt alone. He slowly turned his head and began to scan his environment for any signs of movement. Although he squinted and looked hard, he saw nothing. This was unfortunate in his mind because there was no way he could predict which direction the attack was going to occur. With no other options, he returned his attention to the one raptor that he had seen. Fortunately, it was still there and remained eerily still. After a moment of contemplation, he decided his only option was to remain where he was. Running, he knew, would only encourage the animals to attack—it was what they wanted him to do.

  Despite every inkling of his being suggesting otherwise, Glenn Hardcastle somehow remained still. Beads of sweat rolled off his forehead and into his eyes. The burning sensation caused him to blink involuntarily and doing so seemed to spur the Velociraptors attention. The animal stepped very slowly toward him, weaving its way through the surrounding foliage without making a sound. The eerie quietness around the animal’s movements were not surprising to Hardcastle. He knew too well how incredibly skilled they were at both stealth and surprise attacks. He gripped the knife so tightly that his knuckles turned white, but he forced himself to remain calm and still. It was a longshot, he knew, but his hope was that if he remained still enough, the raptors would somehow lose interest and leave him be. He figured it had to be strange for them to approach prey that did not flee.

  As the Velociraptor stepped out of the shadows and into a shaft of sunlight that pierced the jungle canopy, Hardcastle heard the sound he was dreading. From somewhere behind him, there was a subtle shuffle in the leafy vegetation that he knew was undoubtedly another approaching raptor. If this was going to be his end, he decided he was going to go down fighting. Hardcastle turned just in time to the see the raptor that had been sneaking up behind him lunge from the veil of shadow. As the animal came down over him, he heard the other raptor running toward him, apparently pleased that he’d so easily fallen into their trap.

  Hardcastle raised his knife to meet the raptor that had leapt at him but missed. Instinctively, he threw his other arm in front of him for protection, but unfortunately, his forearm landed directly into the jaws of his hungry attacker. As he felt the Velociraptors teeth tear into his flesh and contact bone, he threw his head back and screamed in agony.

  Chapter 19

  The most recent earthquake had been the worst yet. The shaking had become so violent that a portion of the ceiling over the recreation room had collapsed and the gaping hole suddenly allowed them another way into the floor above them. Unfortunately, they both also came to the realization that this too provided another avenue in which the Troodons could get to them as well.

  “This building can’t possibly take another beating like that,” Matt said as he walked underneath the large hole and stared upward. There was quite a bit of dust still settling…so much so that he pulled his shirt tail up to his mouth to prevent breathing it in. “It’s the veterinary ward,” he said, his voice muffled as he spoke through the thick fabric of his shirt.

  Charlie squinted and could just see the corner of the steel examination table. She thought quickly and tried to remember if there was anything that would be of use to them up there. There were scalpels and other sharp instruments used for surgery, but nothing that was better than the assortment of knives at their disposal in the kitchen area. “There are sedatives up there,” she blurted out as soon as the thought popped into her head.

  Matt made his way back toward her and took a moment to brush the white sheetrock dust out of his hair. “Yes, there are,” he said, glancing at her. “But how could we use them to our advantage?”

  Charlie raised her chin and glanced back toward the large hole that led into the veterinary ward. “There is enough up there for us to apply a lethal dosage if need be,” she said thoughtfully.

  Matt considered her suggestion and, though he agreed with her assessment, he wasn’t sure how they could apply it.

  “Yeah, I’m still working that part out,” Charlie said, seemingly reading his thoughts. She paused a moment, then added, “Do you think the Troodons have gotten access to that room? If so, we’re in big trouble.”

  Matt shook his head and shrugged. “Don’t know,” he answered, glancing back toward the hole. “I guess I could climb up there and see if they’ve been in there.”

  Charlie pursed her lips and considered their next move. As she did so, there was a loud crash against the door again.

  “Oh no,” Matt muttered. “Not again.”

  Charlie took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The more she tried to ignore it, the more overwhelming the feeling became. The entire situation, she decided, was hopeless. All they seemed to be doing at this point was prolonging the inevitable. She ran the fingers of both her hands through her hair and slowly exhaled.

  How long could they possibly keep this up?

  “You okay?” Matt asked.

  She shook her head and though she wanted to answer him, she refrained for fear of breaking down. That was the last thing either of them needed right now.

  The pounding on the door continued, but this time it was followed by a muffled voice. “Hello? Anyone in there?”


  Charlie and Matt looked at each other simultaneously and then at the door.

  “Yes, we are here!” Charlie replied as they both ran to the door to begin frantically moving the furniture out of the way. “Just a minute and we will get the door opened!”

  It seemed as if it took a long time, but in all actuality, it took less than a minute for them to remove the barricade and open the door. As soon as she’d swung it open, two large men holding assault rifles barged in. One was tall and had a blond crewcut. There was a smoking cigar hanging out of his mouth. He eyed Charlie and Matt a long moment before finally marching into the room, right past them, the second man on his heels.

  “Let’s get this door closed back, shall we?” he asked, as he kicked the door shut with a large black boot. “I’m Victor, and this is my compadre Cliff,” he said, gesturing to the shorter bald man.

  “Boy, are we glad to see you guys,” Matt replied as he immediately slid the couch back in front of the closed door.

  Both of the men wore army green tank tops with camouflage cargo pants. The black combat boots each of them wore completed the ensemble and made them look as If they’d just stepped out of a G.I. Joe Saturday morning cartoon. The large man, Victor, seemed to be in charge and he did not even acknowledge Matt’s statement.

  “Where is everyone else?” Cliff asked, looking around the room.

  Victor looked toward Matt for an answer.

  “Glenn Hardcastle left to try and get us access through an old underground tunnel that leads to a bunker,” he answered quickly.

  Victor pulled the cigar from his mouth and flicked ashes onto the floor. “Now why would he do something that stupid?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

  Charlie drew near him and crossed her arms. “We were getting desperate,” she said, doing her best to defend him. “He was doing what he felt would give us the best chance to make it out of this. There are dinosaurs in the building. We didn’t know when help was going to arrive.”