Island 731

46.

Bennett laughed as Hawkins stepped away from the shifting jungle. Though she was the combination of several different species, the monster—Kam’s mother—had black skin and black fur. The only parts of her not black or a shade of gray were her yellow eyes and the streaks of white on her spines. In the shade of the jungle, her features were nearly impossible to distinguish, but when she stepped into the light of day, her horrible form was revealed.

The first thing Hawkins noticed was that her face and various parts of her body had been slathered in mud. Hawkins remembered tan skin on her face and green crocodilian skin on her forehead. And Kam had mentioned a polar bear claw, which should have been white. She was, after all, a patchwork of multiple DNAs, not a hybrid. Covered in drying mud, she looked like a single, unified species. She looked alien. A true monster.

That she’d been created from knowledge garnered from Japan’s World War Two atrocities, and seventy years of continued barbarism under the control of a fringe DARPA program, made her even more of a monster. Kam would no doubt want Hawkins to see her as a victim and, to a point, he did. But he saw her in the same way he saw Jim Clifton—she’d been tortured, experimented on, and abused to the point where her life had been reduced to a subjugated killing machine. Ending her life would be the right thing to do.

Of course, it was far more likely that she would kill him.

Hawkins took another step back and drew the machete, holding it in his right hand and the bolt stunner in his left.

She stalked slowly toward him.

Where are they? Hawkins thought, annoyed that the cavalry had not yet arrived, despite the fact that the cavalry would likely try to kill him, as well.

“What are you waiting for?” Bennett shouted. “Get on with it!”

Pulse, pulse, pulse.

The monster snorted and stepped forward. Its legs were powerful, built like a cat’s hind legs but with apelike feet.

Hawkins saw a scratch on the upper-right edge of the creature’s turtle shell carapace. Had his knife strike been a few inches higher, he would have struck the unprotected neck.

The bristles on the monster’s back shook and rattled as she lowered her body to the ground like a cat about to pounce.

And then she did.

The lunge was so quick that Hawkins barely had time to avoid it, despite being ready and nearly thirty feet away. He dove to the side, rolled to his feet, and swung out wildly with the machete. He thought she’d have landed close, or even started a second attack, but his swing found nothing but empty air.

He spun, looking for her, but the giant had somehow vanished. Hawkins noticed the growing shadow surrounding him at the same moment Joliet shouted, “Above you!”

He didn’t bother looking up. He didn’t have to. He just did the only thing he could: he fell back. Striking the ground knocked the wind from his lungs, but was nothing compared to the crushing weight that landed atop him. He’d meant to raise the machete and hope the blade resting against the solid earth coupled with the thing’s own body weight would be enough to drive the blade through the carapace, but the weapon was batted away just before she landed atop him.

The only reason he was still alive was because she’d only placed one hand against his chest. The rest of her weight was dispersed through her other limbs.

A long finger extended out over Hawkins’s face. He recognized it as the same talon-tipped finger that had easily plucked Joliet from the old laboratory’s window. It twitched over his eye like a scorpion stinger.

“You don’t have to do this, Kaiju,” Hawkins said quickly. He didn’t think he could talk his way out of this fight, but maybe he could delay it. When the finger didn’t immediately impale his skull, he thought he was right.

Pulse, pulse, pulse.

The finger tensed, primed and ready to strike.

Or not.

Hawkins pulled the trigger.

Two inches of steal shot out and punched a hole in the carapace. The shell was at least an inch thick, so the wound wasn’t severe, but the sudden and perhaps unfamiliar pain sent the creature flying. It reacted like a cat, springing into the air, flailing wildly with a shriek of surprise.

Bennett clapped his free hand against his other arm. “Well done! I do believe you are the first person—or creature—to cause her injury outside of the operating table.”

The monster twitched and spun, searching for the source of the pain. When she found the hole in her chest, she stopped. She inspected the wound with the long finger of her aye-aye hand. When the talon poked through the hole and found flesh, she winced, staggered back, and leveled her eyes at Hawkins.

He barely noticed as he reloaded his last compressed charge into the bolt stunner.

But when she let out a roar that was both high and low pitched, like two voices conjoined, he noticed. And nearly dropped the charge. But he got it in place and snapped the weapon closed.

She slapped her hands hard against the ground, pulled her hind legs in tight, and then propelled herself forward with all of her unnatural strength. Hawkins dove again, this time in the direction of the machete.

He missed being struck by the monster’s bulk, but a backhand from the polar bear claw as she passed sent him sprawling. Pain shot down his leg from his thigh where he’d been struck.

When Hawkins heard Joliet cry out with concern, his core filled with rage. So far he’d been on the defensive. Reacting instead of acting. He’d gotten in a lucky blow, but it would be his last if he didn’t at least try to alter the outcome of this fight. He climbed to his feet with an angry shout.

The monster had just finished its charge and turned to face him.

This time, he attacked.

The creature seemed taken aback by this small man screaming and running at it.

So he ran faster. Straight ahead. With the bolt stunner ready to go, he planned to leap right at the thing, get inside its reach, and get the bolt stunner against its head. At the very least, the beast would be knocked unconscious, at best, it would be dead. Kam wouldn’t have wanted it, but it had to be done.

Hawkins dove, leaping high to reach the creature’s forehead. He nearly made it when he was batted aside. The strike was almost casual, though it felt like a truck had struck him in the side. He got back to his feet with a grunt. Most of the fight had been taken out of him with the one blow.

But the creature didn’t press the attack. It just circled him slowly. Is it toying with me? he wondered. It did have feline attributes, but wasn’t sure if that was the case. Doesn’t matter, he decided, and charged again.

This time he never even got to lunge. The creature swiped its polar bear claws across his chest. The caked mud covering the paw and five sharp claws formed a dusty cloud at the point of impact.

Hawkins stumbled back.

The pain felt familiar. Dull at first. Then a sharp sting. Then a systemic reaction set all of his nerves on fire. All of this was followed by shock, which helped dull the pain, but also dulled his mind. He looked down slowly. His shirt was shredded and lay open, exposing his chest and stomach. Five red lines stretched diagonally across his torso intersecting the similar scars running in the other direction. Through the pain, he felt warmth spread down his chest. Blood. A lot of it.

But it could have been worse. The creature had sliced open his skin, but not fully. It could have easily cut through his rib cage, or removed his arm, or eviscerated him. Instead, it had decided to stun him, no doubt on purpose. Hawkins realized too late that he wasn’t just fighting a predator; he was fighting a predator with a human, or at least near-human, intelligence. And it wanted him to know it.

She’s evil, he thought. As much as she may have cared for Kam, she’s as tainted by this island as Bennett.

The revelation came too late to do any good. The long, black chameleon tail whipped around the thing’s body and wrapped around Hawkins’s legs. The creature yanked his feet out from under him. He hit the ground hard and started coughing. He could hear Joliet shouting, but couldn’t make out the words. The blurry shape of the monster hovered over him, raising its claws to strike.

He wondered if it would take off his head or open up his gut. Would it be a slow death? Or drawn out?

Then something new entered his vision. A body leaping over him toward the creature. For a moment he thought it was Joliet, but it was too large. And the shouting voice too deep. He saw a glint of metal. Then a second. The new arrival was armed! And swinging.

Hawkins pushed himself up as a surge of adrenaline cleared his mind. And then he saw him: Drake, swinging two butcher knives like a madman. He was covered in grime and dried blood. He was shirtless and his muscles glistened with sweat. It was like watching a vengeful spirit back from the dead.

Only Drake was far from dead. “Get up, Ranger!” the captain shouted.

Hawkins pushed himself up with a shout of pain, never taking his eyes off the action. The beast was on the defensive, shifting from side to side and stepping back. Hawkins saw blood dripping from the bear claw. Drake had wounded it and hadn’t backed down from the first moment.

“Thirty seconds!” Drake shouted.

Thirty seconds? Until what?

The creature let loose a pain-fueled roar. A long, slender digit spiraled through the air, landing at Hawkins’s feet. Drake had severed one of the aye-aye fingers!

And then he was flying through the air. Where the creature had been playing with Hawkins, he had no doubt it would now quickly rend them limb from limb as easily as he would a rotisserie chicken.

Hawkins turned to run, but a gun aimed at his chest stopped him.

Pulse, pulse.

Hawkins felt hot breath on his back. The creature stood right behind him, mere inches away from killing him, but stopped at Bennett’s command. Drake got to his feet, clutching his ribs, his knives gone. He stood next to Hawkins.

“To reward your bravery,” Bennett said, “I’ll allow you to choose how you’re all going to die.”

“Fuck you,” Drake growled.

“I was talking to Hawkins,” Bennett said. “So, what will it be? Should I let this little skirmish conclude and keep Joliet alive until I get bored of her? Or should I put a bullet in each of your heads right now, starting with Joliet and finishing with you?”

The answer was a simple one. Hawkins would rather them all die now, and quickly, than allow Bennett the chance to torture and mutilate Joliet. He’d only have to live with the pain of seeing her die for a few moments before he joined her. He was about to say as much when Drake clutched his arm. Hawkins looked into the captain’s angry and still confident eyes.

“I saw Bray,” the captain said, not quite a whisper, but still not loud enough for Bennett to hear.

“What was that?” Bennett asked, sounding annoyed.

Drake held Hawkins’s gaze, ignoring the threat. “You ready, Ranger?”

Bennett put the gun to Joliet’s head. “Answer now, or I’ll decide for you.”

“Give me five more seconds,” Hawkins said.

Bennett looked flabbergasted. “Five seconds? What do you need five—”

A bullet tore through his shoulder, spinning him away from Joliet.

Hell followed in the single round’s wake.