“You got it?”
“Yeah.”
“Here goes. . . .” Jason opened the door, and an explosion of wind blew in. He grabbed his rifle, then, over the wind, just watched the predator gliding back and forth, laboring mightily and visibly exhausted. Jason tried to see its eyes. He only caught glimpses but thought they weren’t moving, like the creature wasn’t thinking. Jason saw it plainly: the Demonray was physically weak, trapped, and vulnerable. He turned as Darryl aimed a truly horrifying piece of steel right at the animal. The sharpened stake looked like it could kill an elephant. Jason knew Darryl wouldn’t miss. It’s over, he thought. He removed the safety from his rifle, then aimed. He waited for Darryl to fire first.
CHAPTER 87
THE STEEL stake exploded away, rocketing toward the animal like a missile.
The predator made no attempt to evade it. In its weakened condition, it simply continued gliding, completely unaware. The stake plunged three feet deep into its right side and it suddenly began jerking in violent, spasmodic contortions.
In the other chopper, Jason didn’t hesitate. He checked his aim carefully. Then fired eight times. Six bullets entered the head just above the eyes and the animal continued to contort.
In the Vertol, Darryl rapidly reloaded, then aimed again. Voom! On a line, another stake rocketed down. The projectile plunged into the Demonray’s left side, and the predator suddenly contorted even more wildly, speared symmetrically, torrents of thick red blood gusting into the wind.
The wind blowing into his face, Darryl looked down cruelly. The animal that had killed his wife was about to die itself. He reached for the next spear, but it rolled away. . . .
In the other chopper, Jason suddenly felt a tinge of worry. He hadn’t taken his eye off the creature and for some reason it abruptly seemed dramatically calmer. It was as if the animal had been startled by the first shots but had quickly gotten over it. It wasn’t jerking spasmodically anymore. Incredibly, with two steel harpoons sticking out of it, it was gliding evenly. Watching it, Jason realized the harpoons were piercing the deepest part of its body but not its actual wings. The two projectiles really didn’t seem to be bothering it.
Then the giant head moved, and Jason got a glimpse of its eyes. His stomach turned. The eyes were alive now—and looking down at the sea. Why’s it looking down there? The animal seemed to be eyeing the surface, studying it even.
Craig spun around. “It can’t breathe down there, right?!”
Jason shook his head over the wind. “I don’t think so!”
“Then what the hell’s it doing?!”
“I’d say looking for a way out!!”
The Demonray suddenly darted inland, toward the forest.
Like lightning, Craig jolted the chopper lower, cutting it off—and causing Phil to kick the ladder from under his seat. They watched it glide away . . . and didn’t notice the ladder fly out the open door. . . .
In the Vertol, Darryl aimed once more. Completely focused on his target, he didn’t notice the other helicopter’s ladder, caught in a current of wind and speeding down toward the creature. Just as he released he saw it, heading to the same exact spot on the creature as his now-speeding projectile. . . .
“What the hell is that!” Craig screamed.
He’d just spotted the ladder himself. It was coming from his helicopter. If the harpoon caught the ladder and creature simultaneously . . . He turned the chopper up violently but too late. The stake knifed into the ladder, simultaneously plunged into the animal, and Craig instantly felt a pull on his machine. He spun around. “Unhook the goddamn ladder!!”
Phil jumped to the ladder hook, but it was impossibly tight. “It won’t unhook!”
“Then cut it! Cut it right now!”
Phil looked around over the wind. “With what?!”
Craig ripped open a compartment and two red Swiss Army knives dropped out, sliding under the seats. They all reached down to find them . . . just as the predator began flapping, flying straight up.
Craig bolted up, holding the knives, shoving one to Jason, the other back to Phil. “Cut the damn ladder! Cut it right now!”
As Jason and Phil began cutting, Craig realized the creature was gone, the ladder now above the helicopter. If the ladder got caught in the speeding propeller blades . . . He gunned the machine higher, craning his head to see the animal. He couldn’t see it. Where the hell was it?!
It was plunging straight down. Wings pulled tight, it was behind the chopper, dive-bombing toward the ocean.
Jason jerked his head violently. A black shape blurred past, moving with astonishing speed. But the helicopter was still ascending. . . .
“Craig! You’re going the wrong way!”
“What!” Summers couldn’t hear over the wind.
“The wrong way! You’re going the wrong way!”
But even as he screamed the words, Jason knew it was too late. If they didn’t change direction instantly, the ladder would tighten and then—
Suddenly the chopper jerked onto its side.
His seat belt off, Phil almost fell out the open door. The chopper jerked again, and Phil slid straight out. With both hands, Jason grabbed him, pulling him back in.
Craig frantically pulled the levers, trying to right the machine. It was too late. The chopper turned over and entered free fall.
“Bail out!” Craig screamed, “Bail out! Bail out! Bail out!”
From under the seats, he grabbed orange parachutes, shoving two to Jason and Phil.
Phil frantically put his on, but Jason couldn’t get his hand through a strap.
“Bail out! Bail out! Bail out!”
The world started spinning . . . ocean and sky, ocean and sky . . .
“Bail out! Bail out! Bail out!”
Craig couldn’t undo his seat belt. Phil lunged toward him, trying to help.
Jason got his hand through the strap then felt toward the open door. Trying to focus, he watched as Phil yanked frantically on Craig’s seat belt. He couldn’t undo it. Jason just watched. He didn’t want to leave them.
“Bail out, Jason!” Phil screamed. Then he eyed him for a brief moment. “I’m sorry.”
Jason flew out the door, instantaneously plunging toward the sea. He felt along his chest, trying to find the rip cord. It wasn’t there. He frantically patted his chest. He found a little tab and pulled. He was sucked up into the air.
The chopper hurtled downward, Phil frantically tugging at the seat belt. “I can get it, Craig! I can get it!” But when the seat belt unclicked, Phil suddenly realized what Craig Summers already knew. It was too late for both of them. What had been a spinning kaleidoscope of ocean and sky suddenly became all ocean. The water rushed closer incredibly fast and . . .
THE CHOPPER didn’t sink immediately. Like a drowning windmill, its rotors labored mightily against the sea. It floated for several seconds, then submerged.
Jason entered the sea feetfirst, the ocean’s chill hitting his skin. He quickly removed the sopping-wet parachute and floated. It was suddenly very quiet, nothing but tiny breaking waves and light wind. He looked around nervously. The creature was still alive. Somehow, he knew it, he sensed it, even if its gills had dried out, it was still alive. And it was in the water with him. He looked up as the huge Vertol descended, Darryl at the helm now, Lisa looking down from the open door, weeping.
Jason suddenly sensed something behind him. There was a loud splash. He spun around and . . . A breaking wave. He felt sick. Craig Summers and Phil Martino were gone. Perhaps the creature was too. As the Vertol’s blades started flattening the water around him, he realized if the Demonray was somehow dead—and still harpooned to the Sikorsky—its body would be dragged to bottom of the ocean. They’d never see it again, never know for sure what had happened. . . .
He dove, kicking as hard as he could. With sun-dappled water surging past his face, he quickly knifed lower. . . . Then he saw it far below him, something very large, descending slowly toward the depth
s. It was the helicopter, he could make out the bright yellow. He caught up to the machine, grabbing the trailing ladder. It pulled him lower, and he guessed the depth at a hundred feet. The water was darkening. Hand over hand, he climbed lower still, and forgot about the creature. He had to get Craig and Phil, their bodies. Barely able to breathe, he reached the passenger-side door and . . . There was nothing there, both men ripped out of their seats by the impact. Craig Summers and Phil Martino were gone.
Jason let go at a hundred and thirty feet and, strangely, didn’t feel like he needed to breathe. He just floated in the half-light, watching as the machine descended toward the darkness. Then the end of the ladder was pulled down and past him. One of Darryl’s harpoons was attached to it. But nothing else was. The creature was still alive.
He began swimming up. They had to find the Demonray fast, and he knew exactly how.
CHAPTER 88
“I’VE GOT to get my scuba gear!”
Sopping wet and hanging from the lifeline, Jason wasn’t even inside the helicopter yet. “And harpoons!” He climbed in awkwardly, collapsing on the metal floor. “And I got to get them right now.”
As Lisa slammed the door closed, Darryl’s face was blank. He looked down at the smashed orange parachute in the sea below. “It’s still alive?”
“I realized even if its gills did dry up, it might be able to get oxygen through its spiracle.”
Darryl nodded. “I’m sorry about Phil.”
Jason paused, looking up. “I’m very sorry about Craig, Darryl.”
“At least it’s out of the trees.”
“It will be back. Unless we find it first, it will be back.”
“Then let’s get that equipment.” The chopper sped back to the land.
“A homing beacon?”
As the Vertol shot out of the parking lot, Jason was surprised. In the tail of the slender harpoon Darryl had just handed him was a tiny transmitter the size of a quarter. “I didn’t think these high-tech gizmos were your style, Darryl.”
“They’re not. Didn’t even know we had them; they’re Craig’s.”
Jason turned to Lisa. “If I can shoot it, we can use the homing beacon to locate it.”
Lisa nodded. She was already holding the transmitter.
As they crossed the shoreline, Darryl glanced at the distant dark mountains looming over the sea. Moments later, he hovered to a stop at the exact location where the Sikorsky had gone down, then turned back. “Sure you don’t want me to do this, Jason?”
Jason zipped up his wet suit. “Then who flies the helicopter?” He grabbed his harpoons and oxygen tank and clomped toward the door. When he put his hand on it, Lisa’s was already there.
“Be careful.”
He kissed her, then, seconds later, jumped into the flattened seas. From below, he gave her a final thumbs-up, then ducked under a wave and disappeared.
POOR VISIBILITY, Jason thought, diving lower. With broken rays of sunshine providing the only light, tons of particles were floating everywhere. Leveling off at a hundred and ten feet, he wished he’d brought a flashlight. Scanning in every direction, he saw no sign of the creature, no sign of anything. He swam north.
The ocean appeared empty, but with the poor visibility he couldn’t be sure. After ten minutes he didn’t see a single fish but came upon something considerably less exotic. Garbage, apparently from a construction crew: bloated cement bags, waterlogged cardboard boxes, and a punctured inner tube. What kind of people came out to the ocean to dump this stuff? As a cloud above blocked out the sunlight, he swam forward, clutching his harpoon gun tightly. Given the poor visibility, he could literally swim right into the creature if he wasn’t careful—he suddenly stopped.
There it was. Just ten feet away. Huge and black, just floating there.
It didn’t seem to be aware of him, perfectly still and not looking in his direction.
Ever so gently, he kicked backward, and it made no attempt to follow him.
He swam farther away, then stopped and watched it. It didn’t budge. Was something wrong with it? Was it dead?
Minutes passed, and it still didn’t move.
He swam toward it.
As he got closer, he realized: it wasn’t the creature at all. It was a sheet of black plastic, another piece of floating garbage. He swam past it and saw something else behind it, also large and black. More of the same? He couldn’t see it clearly, so he swam closer. . . .
It was thicker than plastic. He swam closer. Much thicker.
He froze.
It was the creature. This time he was sure of it. It was bleeding heavily, Darryl’s harpoons no longer inside it, no doubt jarred loose by the violent plunge into the sea. The animal didn’t seem to be aware of him. It didn’t move or otherwise give any indication it knew he was near. Was it hunting him?
It suddenly jolted.
But then it didn’t move. It had just repositioned itself.
Jason didn’t understand. What was it doing? Why wasn’t it swimming for the land?
The water lightened, and it turned right for him.
He didn’t move, tried not even to breathe.
The Demonray held still—just twenty-five feet away.
Then the sun lightened further, and it swam toward him.
He kicked backward as hard as he could.
Like a bird in molasses, it just swam closer. Twenty feet away.
He positioned his harpoon, but it caught on his wet suit.
Fifteen feet.
He got it loose. . . .
Ten feet.
Aimed . . .
The creature suddenly froze.
He didn’t fire. Breathing rapidly, he drifted lower and watched it, trying to understand. Why had it stopped? Was it afraid of the harpoon? Or were its sensory organs malfunctioning, perhaps in shock from the sudden environment change?
Watching it, Jason slowly glanced up and realized it was dark again, the sun gone.
Suddenly he understood. The animal was having problems with its vision. Its eyes hadn’t readjusted to the seawater and it was using the sun to see.
The light returned. As if flipped by a switch, the creature swam straight for him.
He kicked hard, swimming back and down, getting out of its path. The creature made no attempt to follow him. Like a slow-moving children’s ride, it continued straight ahead. And suddenly Jason saw what the Demonray was doing. It wasn’t just using the sun to see, it was following it. It somehow knew the sun’s position in the sky and was following it to get back to the land.
Jason drifted lower, raising the harpoon again. The creature was about to swim directly above him. . . .
It slowly did, wings pumping, engulfing him in shadows. He aimed at its heart, his finger easing down on the trigger. . . . Whoosh! The harpoon hurtled through the water and plunged right into the white underbelly.
There was no reaction. Literally none. The predator continued as if nothing had happened.
Jason watched in amazement as it faded into the watery distance and disappeared.
Very soon it would reach the land. Not if he could help it. He swam up rapidly. They had to get there first.
CHAPTER 89
“IT’S FOLLOWING the sun.” Jason slammed the door closed. “It’s following the sun to get back to the land.”
Lisa raised a transmitter the size of a deck of cards, beeping slowly and steadily. “So I gather.”
“Jason.” Darryl pointed his finger at the sun. “If you’re right, look what it’s heading to.” On a line, he lowered his finger . . . to the southern tip of the looming black mountains.
“So we just follow it?” Lisa asked, looking down at the rolling sea.
Jason eyed her beeping transmitter. “Follow it and listen.”
THE CHOPPER inched forward at a snail’s pace. Half an hour later, the beeping still slow and steady, the machine was just fifty feet away from the mountains, suddenly draped in their shadows. “It’s gotta start coming up.” Darry
l turned back to Jason urgently. “Get ready.”
Like magic, the beeping became faster.
Jason grabbed his rifle, opened the door, and looked down at the dark sea, trying to spot the creature.
The beeping grew faster still.
He aimed at the waves, trying to see it.
The beeping quickened again.
He swept his rifle across the waves, waiting.
The beeping quickened once more. Then stopped.
Jason paused, staring at the dark water. “Where is it? What happened?”
Lisa eyed the transmitter. “Is this thing still working?”
Darryl shook his head. “Let me see it.” She handed it to him, and he carefully looked it over. “It’s fine.” He turned back to the ocean. What the hell had happened? He scanned the waves with eagle eyes. There was no sign of the predator anywhere.
“It was rising toward us, wasn’t it?” Lisa eyed the mountains directly ahead. “That’s solid rock, right?”
Darryl hesitated. “Wait a second. There might be caves in there.” He’d forgotten, but Phil had mentioned it while going through the park’s papers on prescribed burns. A vast network of caves had existed in the area for as long as the redwoods. Apparently they’d been made unstable during the California Gold Rush in the late 1840s and never become a tourist attraction for safety reasons. Then something else occurred to Darryl. “A cave. That could be the conduit it used to get to the land in the first place.”
Jason suddenly felt sick. “And now it’s trying to do it again. Darryl, we better get to the land side of these right now.”
“Jesus, you’re right. . . .” The big helicopter rose straight up, shot out of the shadows, and whipped over the mountains on the other side. They prayed they weren’t too late.
CHAPTER 90
“I DON’T see it anywhere.” The helicopter sped over the mountain range, peaks and valleys of black rock without any vegetation at all. Next to Darryl in the passenger seat, Lisa had binoculars to her face. “No sign of it at all. There sure are a lot of caves, though.”
Natural Selection Page 34
