by C. G. Mosley
Jonathon rolled over on his back and smiled. His foot hurt, the gashes on his face burned, he was hungry, and beyond exhausted…yet he seemed to feel the best he’d felt since he had landed on the island. Once again, he somehow cheated death.
“I feel awesome fellas,” he replied gratefully. “What took you so long?”
Epilogue:
It turned out that Jonathon’s saving grace was all due to Charlie running ahead and reaching the beach before he did. He was later told that as soon as she stepped onto the sand, she began screaming for someone to go in and help him get Harley out of the jungle. Had she stayed behind to help him, they would’ve most likely all died together only fifty yards away from rescue. After thanking her—and the soldiers that came to his aid—profusely, he regretfully let Charlie know about the deaths of Victor and Matt. The news hit her much harder than he originally anticipated. She immediately collapsed to the floor and began to sob uncontrollably. He wanted to console her, to say something that would help ease her pain. However, he knew that was a lost cause. She’d apparently been much closer to Dr. Matthew Walker than he had known and her reaction to his death was heartbreaking.
Once Jonathon had to the courage to leave Charlie to grieve, he turned his attention to Harley Cash. Her condition reminded him a lot of Silas Treadwell and how close to death he’d come on Jonathon’s previous adventure on the island. The medic on the ship told him that she was in excellent health and that had it not been for that, there would be no hope. As encouraging as that evaluation was, he cautioned Jonathon that she was nowhere near out of the woods yet. The medic suggested that if Jonathon believed in prayer, Harley could certainly use some.
Next, Jonathon checked on Glenn Hardcastle and miraculously, he seemed to be doing remarkably well for a man that had lost an appendage just hours earlier. As soon as he saw his old friend, the two of them embraced and both swore they’d never return to the island again. Hardcastle soon noticed that Mr. Cold was nowhere to be found and Jonathon explained what he’d seen happen to their former mysterious boss. He’d been certain that he had witnessed the man’s death, but after never seeing a body, he began to wonder.
It was then that Hardcastle informed Jonathon of the gruesome discovery he’d made regarding Hank Bailey’s body—and his strong belief that Mr. Cold had murdered him. At first, Jonathon tried to repudiate the claim, but as hard as he tried, he could think of no other explanation. The more he argued with Hardcastle on the matter, the more he began to slowly change his opinion. Finally, he concluded that as hard as it was to believe, Cold was the only logical suspect responsible for Hank’s death. He certainly didn’t shoot himself in the back of the head. They figured his body had probably been dragged away and brought to be shared among a pack of hungry raptors. Hank Bailey certainly deserved better, and suddenly Jonathon found himself hoping that Cold was indeed dead.
“Of course he’s dead,” Hardcastle assured him.
Jonathon nodded, and wanted to believe it. However, for some reason that he could not explain, he just could not allow himself to accept it—at least not until he saw a body. And unfortunately, with the newly formed volcano threatening all life on the island, he wondered if he’d ever be able to get the closure he needed on the matter. By the time they’d escaped the island, the cone was nearing 200 feet high and a geologist on board the military ship explained that it would be triple that height in a week’s time. The future did not look good for the dinosaurs that had somehow managed to escape extinction for over 65 million years. Part of that fact made Jonathon quite sad, and another part of it made him happy.
The dinosaurs on the island in the mist simply did not belong in the present day. Part of what had led to their resilience and ability to thrive for so long had been their seclusion and separation from man. As with most things on planet earth, when man became involved, somehow some way, they found a way to exploit it and ultimately destroy. The recent formation of the volcano almost seemed like nature’s way of making sure that the island and the dinosaurs that inhabited it were handled on its own terms. There was no room for man there and, for better or worse, it seemed that nature was making sure it would stay that way.
Once the shipped docked again on the mainland, Jonathon, Hardcastle, and Charlie were all taken to a large semi-truck parked nearby with steep stairs that led to a door on the back of the trailer. The three of them were ordered inside and were surprised to find some sort of mobile military unit, though Jonathon was unable to tell exactly which branch. He looked to both Charlie and Hardcastle for answers since he was aware that they’d both had a much closer working relationship with Mr. Cold than him. Instead of answers, all he got was blank stares and shrugs. They seemed to be as much in the dark about what was going on as he was. The trio of survivors were ushered toward the front of the trailer and into a tiny interrogation room with no windows. Nothing was said or explained to any of them, despite Hardcastle’s insistence that someone tell them what was going on. A pitcher of water with three paper cups was left in the room, and they sat alone side by side on the same side of the table. Jonathon guessed they remained there for at least half an hour.
Finally, the door swung open and a man in a black suit stepped inside. His dark hair was combed neatly and he was clean shaven. He reminded Jonathon a lot of Cornelius Cold, only younger. The man had a file folder tucked under his arm and he pulled the chair out from the opposite side of the table and took a seat. He then pulled out three pieces of paper—along with three pens he retrieved from his coat pocket—and placed the items in front of each of them.
“I’m truly sorry for all that you’ve been through over the past few days,” the man said, and he offered a friendly smile. “I’m also cognizant of each of your relationships to Cornelius, and because of that, I’m willing to make a deal with each of you.”
“A deal?” Jonathon asked as he leaned over to look at the document in front of him.
“That’s right,” the man replied. “A deal. Basically, all I want is for each of you to go away…” the man paused, took a deep breath through his nose, and then flashed another smile at the three of them. “I’m sorry,” he said carefully. “I worded that wrong…please forgive my rudeness.”
“Please get to the point,” Hardcastle said angrily. “In case you haven’t noticed, I need a hospital,” he added, holding up his gauze-wrapped stump.
“Right,” the man agreed. “I will get to the point.” He reached for the piece of paper in front of Hardcastle and pointed to a line at the very bottom. “I want you each to sign your respective agreement and you can all be on your way.”
“And what exactly does this say?” Charlie asked, picking up the piece of paper to read it.
“It says that if you speak to anyone about what you know of that island or its…er, inhabitants, you will each be charged with treason, and essentially, you’ll spend the rest of your life locked away so that you will be unable to tell another soul.”
The man’s tone was very matter-of-fact and he didn’t so much as blink when he spoke. Jonathon stared at him a long moment and then finally snatched the pen up. He quickly scrawled out his signature and shoved the piece of paper back across the table. The man took it and gave an appreciative nod.
“You do understand that this includes your friend Silas Treadwell?” he asked. Clearly, he was involved in the bugging that Cold had spoken of. Jonathon wondered if he’d been forced to sign the same agreement.
“Silas and I will still be friends, but we’ll stick to talking about things that a lot of older guys like to talk about like football and how many times we get up to take a piss at night,” he replied. “Is that okay?”
The man smiled. “Yes, that will be okay.”
“Good,” Jonathon replied, crossing his arms. “Now I’d like to go home to see my wife and kid if that’s alright with you.”
“That sounds like a very good idea,” the man agreed cheerfully. He then returned his attention to Charlie and Hardcastle. He
glanced down at their respective agreements and then his gaze returned to each of them, his eyebrows raising slightly.
The two of them signed also and as soon as the man in black had the documents back in the folder and under his arm, he stood, opened the door, and motioned for them to exit.
“There will be a car waiting outside,” he said. “Mr. Hardcastle, you will get the medical attention you need and deserve. As for Mr. Williams and Ms. Nelson, I trust you’ve each already gotten the medical attention and drugs you needed. The two of you will now be taken to an airport and put on a plane. Once on the ground, a car will be waiting to take you home. I want to thank you on behalf of the United States of America for your cooperation. You’re all patriots.”
Jonathon looked at Hardcastle and he got a smirk in reply. Jonathon then shook his head, rolled his eyes, and made his way out of the trailer. As promised, a black car was waiting outside.
“You gonna be alright?” he asked Hardcastle as he prepared to get in the car.
Hardcastle smiled and offered his remaining hand. The two shook hands and he said, “Don’t talk like you’ll never see me again…you haven’t seen the last of me, Williams.”
Jonathon nodded. “You know where to find me. Let me know how Harley is as soon as you can.”
He nodded and then Charlie gave Hardcastle a hug as she followed Jonathon into the car.
They talked almost the entire drive to the airport and even more so on the airplane. Charlie asked Jonathon questions she’d never asked before. She wanted to know all about his wife and his new baby. The two of them exchanged stories of their experiences in paleontology and the most exciting finds of their careers. When they finally reached the moment where they had to go their separate ways, Charlie suddenly reached out and hugged him tightly.
“I haven’t thanked you for saving my life,” she said.
“Twice,” Jonathon replied.
She pulled back and looked at him. “What?”
“Technically, I’ve saved your life twice,” he said. “Once in the cave and once a couple of years ago when we were both locked in a cage with a hungry tyrannosaur knocking at the door.”
Charlie pursed her lips and thought a minute. “As I remember it, your father revived me after I’d drowned.”
Jonathon shook his head and laughed. “So, you assume it was all unicorns and rainbows while you were knocked out and the cage we were in was—” he paused. “You know what, never mind.”
Charlie laughed with him and the two of them shared another embrace.
“Take care of yourself, Charlotte,” he said as he pulled away and turned to leave.
“We’re going on a dig this summer,” she called after him. “You already promised!”
“Absolutely,” he agreed. “I sorta miss the days when the only dinos we encountered were all bones.”
***
By the time Jonathon arrived at his home, the sun was just beginning to rise. It was the start of a new day, and the fact that he had somehow arrived at his home at that particular moment was symbolic for him. It was the start of a new chapter in his life. A new chapter that did not include running for his life from prehistoric monsters on a faraway island. As he approached the front porch, Rex, his Golden Retriever, greeted him. Jonathon thought that was odd since the dog had become overly protective of Lucy. He rarely left her side.
“It’s about time,” a female voice called out from the shadows on the porch. It was Lucy. She had been sitting on one of the two rocking chairs that they’d spent many early mornings sitting in together to watch the sunrise. “You’re just in time,” she said, glancing toward the east.
Jonathon smiled widely at her and then jogged up the steps to greet her as she stood. They kissed for a long moment and when they finally broke apart, he watched her eyes as she began to study the gashes on his face.
“Did it improve my looks?” he asked, trying to ease the tension.
She took a deep breath and he could see tears beginning to well up in her eyes.
“Please don’t do that,” he said softly. “You were doing that when I left. How is Lily?”
“Oh, she’s fine, sleeping like a brick,” she said, making an effort to stifle her emotions. “I’m just so thankful that you’re back. Please promise me…”
“I’m not going back,” he said reassuringly. “That’s a promise.” He pulled back to look at her again and was glad to see her smiling. “How did you know I was on the way? I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“I received a call from that man you told me about…Glenn Hardcastle,” she said. “He apologized profusely when I answered the phone and told me that the only reason he was calling was because you’d made him promise to let you know immediately when he found out the condition of Harley…” she paused. “Who is Harley?”
“I’ve got plenty of time to tell you that,” he quipped. “Just tell me how she is.”
“He said she is awake. She is awake and wants to speak to you,” Lucy replied. “What would she want to speak to you about?”
Jonathon sighed and answered, “I think you’d better have a seat,” he said, gently pushing her back into the rocking chair.
“Was it that bad?” she asked. Her tone suggested that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the truth or not.
“I’ll tell you all about it,” he said as he took a seat in the other chair. “But first, we’re going to watch the sunrise. After all, it’s a new day.”
The End
Read on for a free sample of C.G. Mosley’s The Pirate Raiders
The recently captured pirate captain William "Redd" Reeves has been given a second chance. The governor of Port Royal Jamaica has given him the "task" of apprehending the most fearsome pirate of the seven seas: Captain Winston Trimble.
Captain Trimble has recently gained possession of the legendary signet ring of King Solomon. The ring gives it's bearer power to control demons and speak to animals. Trimble has decided to use the ring to control the tentacled monstrosity known as the kraken so that he may truly rule the seas!
Captain Redd must battle cannibalistic monsters, the Royal Navy, and of course the kraken too if he is going to defeat Captain Trimble.
Chapter 1
It seemed that July 6, 1717, would surely be my last day on God’s earth. Four days prior, my ship, a modest sloop named Rebecca, was overtaken by a man-of-war from the Royal Navy. My entire crew and I were taken prisoner. That’s not to say that every member of my crew was still alive when we were taken—quite the contrary. Out of seventy-one men, only thirty of us lived to face the harsh consequences of piracy.
As soon as the man-of-war dropped anchor at Port Royal, Jamaica, I was separated from the survivors of my crew and placed in a cell that made it impossible for me to know of their well-being. This was not a surprise to me, for I was their captain and pirate captains were commonly separated from their crew immediately after capture. All I could do was sit and wonder, but deep in my gut a little voice told me that what remained of my loyal crew were now probably just as dead as the others.
I found myself shackled and struggling to walk down the long stone hallway that undoubtedly led to my trial that would in turn lead to my execution. The notion of having a trial for a pirate seemed like a waste of time. Very seldom did any pirate manage to escape the gallows. I’d accepted my fate as soon as I was taken prisoner. That didn’t mean I was happy about it. I was literally sick to my stomach, but there was nothing I could do about it.
I thought about the skeletons I’d seen on occasion hanging in iron cages that greeted anyone who visited Port Royal. The skeletons were former pirates, and their rotting corpses were hung near the entrance of the harbor as a clear warning. Pirates were not welcome in Port Royal and if any were caught, they would be hanged.
Imagining myself hanging in one of those iron cages did nothing to settle my nausea.
There were four guards escorting me, two in front and two behind. We finally reached a pair of large woo
den doors and the guards in front shoved them open with ease. The guards behind guided me to a single wooden chair placed in front of a large table. On the other side of the table sat the governor of Port Royal and several other old men who I could only assume were his assistants.
“Mr. William Reeves, I presume,” the governor said in a most boring tone.
“I am indeed William Reeves,” I answered.
The governor had dark, beady eyes that gazed upon me over a long, pointy nose. I estimated he was approximately sixty years old. He seemed to look down on me over that long nose.
“Have a seat, young man,” the governor said, motioning to the chair behind me.
I sat down and took a moment to rub the soreness around my wrists and ankles.
“I am Governor Charles Winters, and I will be presiding over the trial set forth on this sixth day of July in the year 1717. It seems that a vessel of the Royal Navy spotted a pirate ship while in route to Port Royal. They engaged in a brief battle with said pirate ship. The battle resulted in vast casualties and ultimately the pirate ship, the…” The governor turned his attention to a document laid out on the table before him. “Ah, here it is… the sloop named Rebecca was not salvageable and soon sank into the ocean depths. Thirty men were taken prisoner; you were among them, Mr. Reeves.”
There was a long silence and the governor continued to peer at me with those beady eyes as if he were awaiting some sort of response from me. I wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear. I was a dead man and I knew it. Knowing this made me defiant and I decided right then that I would volunteer no information to the governor or anyone else for that matter. If he wanted to sit in silence and wait for me to speak, then he would be waiting for a long while. A few more moments passed and the governor let out a deep sigh.
“It seems you have nothing to say,” he said. “I know who you are, Captain Reeves. Or should I call you Captain Redd?”
