Island 731

33.

Hawkins jumped to his feet and spun to face the thing, but it was already moving toward him. His eyes had adjusted to the half-moon light and he saw just bits and pieces of the thing before it reached him. It hunched forward as it charged, but still stood at least eight feet tall. And the proportions were all wrong. The chest and shoulders looked far too vast for the tiny waist to support and one arm was larger than the other. In fact, he wasn’t sure if one of the arms was even an arm. No way this thing is human, he thought, and then it was upon him. He pulled the rifle’s trigger at the last moment, but the shot was wild and if it struck the creature, it showed no sign. It just attacked.

The blow was blunt, but concussive. It struck his sternum, which flexed with the strike and saved him from internal injuries, but it knocked the wind out of him and sent him sprawling into the grass. The rifle flew from his grasp, falling into the darkness somewhere out of reach.

Clutching grass in his hands, Hawkins fought to push himself up. The thing had proven itself to be the far more aggressive predator and would no doubt finish him off quickly. When his vision tunneled from lack of air, he thought his time on Earth had come to an end.

But the creature didn’t attack.

Why not? he wondered between gasps.

“Hawkins!” Bray shouted. “I have her!”

Hawkins’s vision cleared just in time for him to see Bray walking backward toward the defunct laboratory. He held Joliet under her arms and dragged her as quickly as he could. But not fast enough to escape the creature. Even at a sprint, Bray wouldn’t have stood a chance.

The thing proved that by taking two quick steps in Bray’s direction and then leaping clear over the man. Bray shouted and spun around, but the creature batted him to the side. He tumbled and rolled over the grass before disappearing from view.

For a moment, Hawkins couldn’t figure out where his friend had gone. Then he heard a splash.

Bray is in the river!

Hawkins took a long breath, steadied himself, and stood. His head spun for a moment, but quickly cleared with a spike of adrenaline. The creature was heading for Joliet’s still form, lying in the grass.

Hawkins unclipped his knife.

Be aggressive, he told himself, but knew it wouldn’t make a difference. The most aggressive wasp in the world could never kill a human being. The best it could hope for was to deliver a painful sting. Hawkins charged, knife raised, hoping he could sting the creature. Even people run from a wasp’s sting, he told himself.

The thing scooped Joliet from the ground and flung her over its shoulder. It didn’t even glance in Hawkins’s direction.

Hawkins ran in silence, focusing on the creature’s chest. If he was lucky, the blade might find its heart. Believing surprise was his only chance, he stayed silent even as he dove forward and swung the blade.

But Hawkins quickly learned the creature’s indifference to his approach had nothing to do with not being aware of him. He was simply too insignificant to pay any attention to. The blade found its target at the center of the creature’s chest. The blow perfectly mirrored the attack that slew the bear so many years ago, but the outcome this time was far different.

There was a loud tink as the knife struck a rock hard surface and skipped to the side. His fist struck the hard surface next. Pain radiated from his hand and up his arm. The blade fell to the ground.

Hawkins stumbled back, clutching his hand. What the hell is this thing?

The creature turned away from him, but then paused a moment. Its ragged breathing drowned out the sound of the now distant goat bleats. While most of the giant body was still cloaked in shadow, moonlight lit the creature’s face as it glanced back at him.

His body tensed when its eyes found his.

It had the face… of a woman.

And the eyes of a goat.

A smile revealed the teeth of a tiger.

This chimera, like the panther-child, was part human. But there were three distinct species just in its face! Hawkins didn’t want to know what species formed the rest of the creature, but he couldn’t let it leave with Joliet. Not without a fight.

He stepped for the knife, but the blade was snatched from the ground. He saw the blade glint in the moonlight, held in the grasp of one of the creature’s hands—if it had hands; its digits blended into the night.

Ping! The blade snapped free from the hilt and spun to the ground.

Hawkins just stared, too stunned to take action. The thing had just snapped the knife’s blade like it was little more than a dry twig.

What could he do against that?

Before he had a chance to answer the question, the thing leapt. It landed on the other side of the river. Hawkins saw it jump twice more, clearing the razor-wire fence with little effort. When branches and leaves crunched beneath the creature’s weight, Hawkins was snapped from his confusion.

The creature took Joliet!

He ran toward the river. “Bray!” he shouted. “Bray! Where are you?” But there was no reply. Bray was either dead, unconscious on the bank, or had already been swept over the falls. Hawkins ran along the river, trying to spot his friend, but there was no sign of the man. When he reached the wooden bridge spanning the river, he vaulted across and headed for the gate he’d spotted earlier.

The chain-link fence, tucked into the jungle and concealed in darkness, was impossible to see. Hawkins reached it faster than he thought he would and crashed into it with a loud jangle. His chest and arms pitched over the curls of razor wire. Rusty blades sliced into his flesh, drawing blood. He winced as he pulled back, but did not cry out. He was beyond acknowledging the pain.

Fumbling in the darkness, Hawkins found the latch, pulled it up, and swung the gate open. He felt the smooth surface of a well-worn path beneath his feet, but after just a few steps was wading through ferns. He adjusted back toward the path, found it again, and tried his best to stay on it. He slowed, despite his panic, and soon realized pursuit was hopeless.

The goat-eyed creature could see in the dark.

He couldn’t.

It was far stronger and faster.

It knew the island.

And even if he somehow caught up to the creature, what could he do? His knife—the blade that had saved him from a grizzly bear, great white shark, and a tentacle-tongued crocodile, not to mention a draco-snake—had been snapped in two. The knife had become a symbol of his mastery of nature and a reminder of a time when he’d lost respect for the power of nature. Its casual destruction had taken his confidence.

He was out of his element. There was nothing natural about this creature, or anything on this island, save for maybe the rats.

Hawkins stopped. He cursed through grinding teeth.

He tried to focus, to clear his thoughts. He’d have to find a way back up the path. Go to the laboratory. Check on Bennett. And Drake. Search for Bray. But he probably wouldn’t find the man in the dark, so he’d have to search again in the morning. And then?

Plans had changed. He wouldn’t leave without Joliet even if it meant dying here. Bennett, Bray, and Drake could leave, but he would scour the island until he found her. Dead or alive.

Hawkins felt himself on the other side of that message for the first time. Dead or alive. Thinking it made his heart go cold. He was glad he’d never voiced the phrase to the families whose lost ones he’d searched for. So for the first time in his life, he altered the phrase.

“I’ll find her alive,” he said, and as the last syllable escaped his lips, Joliet screamed.

Close by.

Hawkins spun toward the sound and broke into a sprint.

“Joliet!” he shouted.

Within five steps he was up to full speed.

When he reached ten steps, he ran headlong into something sinewy. It clotheslined him across the throat, flipping him back. His head struck something hard and unforgiving.

Joliet screamed again, this time sounding much more distant. The sound of her voice faded, but not before lulling Hawkins into unconsciousness.