PREDATOR ISLAND (Sea Lab Book 2)

CHAPTER 2

When the cries of El Tunchi split the night air, Dr. Hugh Graham bolted for the maintenance shed at the edge of the jungle clearing. Moments later, gunshots boomed like thunder throughout the camp area and chaos ensued. Graham hustled across the damp earth with a sense of urgency. Park rangers darted in every direction. Men screamed and begged for mercy, but none came. And soon, the camp grew silent and all he heard was the wind blowing, whistling through the tree tops. Even that strange sound died down as his trembling fingers locked himself inside the tiny building that housed the tools and supplies for the two jeeps used on site.

Two weeks ago, Graham arrived on the island to study the fauna and flora that flourished under the rainforest's tropical conditions. Cocos Island was like an extension of the Amazon Rainforest, a volcanic rock that burst from the ocean floor to create a place of lush beauty, and at the moment, untold danger. Luckily, his brief orientation included a tour of the shed, or else he'd never known it contained a petroleum product that could mask his scent. He located the metal can in a chemical storage cabinet and doused himself with gasoline, or petrol as he called it, patting his neck and face, rubbing it into his pants and shirt. He poured some into his hand and used his fingers to comb it through his hair.

The wildlife of the island was supposed to be limited to small mammals such as pigs, deer, goats, cats and rats—nothing like what tore through the camp moments ago. The chaos that ensued prevented him from getting a good look at the creature, but he managed to catch a glimpse of black fur on a long body with four legs. The attack itself was a blur, the unnaturally large predator a ghost in the darkness. After the screaming and the gunshots, he ran for shelter, locked himself inside, and settled into the back corner beneath a set of shelves, and waited for it all to end.

Time trickled by like water droplets from the wide green leaves that formed the jungle canopy. Graham raised his head from a buried position between his knees. The smell of gasoline wafted to his nose and made him nauseated. One spark and he'd go up in flames. A human bonfire. That might be a more fortunate fate than being eaten alive by a savage beast.

As he waited, he thought through the actions he'd taken to stay alive. Actually, he wasn't sure if his plan worked, or if the animal had simply been distracted by the park rangers. Maybe it was a combination of both. In the end their misfortune became an avenue for him to escape and evade the creature.

Graham was a scientist, not someone who grew up with tales of monsters and spirits that haunted those with superstitious minds. He did not believe in this El Tunchi nonsense. It was a myth conjured up long ago to frighten children, so that when they grew up, they'd regard the rainforest as sacred in order to cherish and protect it as adults. In nature, the jungle preserve was sacred...a pristine habitat in an industrialized world. But the predator was not a ghost or a monster, or any other kind of fantastical creature. It was an animal. One of great size and strength, and killing ability, but it was an animal nonetheless. It was nature's way of righting wrongs.

But he had no doubts about the fierceness of a bloodthirsty beast. It was nature at its best. Or worst. There always had to be something on top of the food chain.

In the darkness, he rose to his feet and crept to the front of the shed. His fingers trembled and the core of his body quaked, but his brain forced his hand into action, twisting the knob and nudging the door ajar. Outside, a fire glowed at the center of the camp, which now lay in silence, except for the popping of embers. A park ranger's mangled body lay near one of the huts, his blood splattered on the porch steps and spilled on the bare earth. His severed leg lied a few feet away.

A terrified scream erupted in the jungle to his right. Another park ranger.

Graham counted six corpses, arms, legs, and necks all laying at odd angles, large portions of their torsos missing. That meant one ranger was still alive to account for a total of seven. Seconds later, the man's cries faded to bloody gurgles, and eventually died out like the others.

Graham felt the undeniable urge to run, but he paused, unable to lift his boots from the ground.

The leaves and limbs rustled with movement. Unbelievably fast movement.

It was the creature.

Graham burst into a sprint in the opposite direction.

As he ran, the velvet blanket of the starry sky brightened overhead. If the animal was coming for him, he knew of one other thing that could throw it off his scent. Water.

The park ranger ran the wrong way. To the east, a river cut through the middle of the island, one of two bodies of water that carried rain runoff to the ocean. At some points, there were waterfalls and pools of gathering water.

He emerged from a thicket of trees and underbrush into a jeep trail used to search for natural resources. Not far away in the bend of a curve, the dirt road veered away from the river's edge. But the water rushed by and continued on into the heart of the island.

Behind him, heavy paws pounded the ground, bearing the weight of a half-a-ton animal.

Graham glanced back. It was too dark to see anything but an outline of the creature thundering after him, hot on his tail. But it was huge. Bigger than the rhino he saw in Africa. And it melted into the darkness, all except it's eyes.

It roared like a lion, or a bear, or a dragon.

Dirt and pebbles churned beneath his feet as he reached the curve in the road. The invisible surge of the river rumbled in the darkness.

Once more, he checked behind him.

A mouth full of teeth gaped open wide, stretching toward Graham as he leaped over the water's edge...and plunged toward the river's flow. Talon-like claws scraped the air above him, missing the crown of his head by a centimeter, gravity pulling him down and out of reach. He dipped below the surface and reemerged. As he was carried downstream, a massive shadow landed on the other side of the bank with a tha-wump, disappearing into the thickness of the vegetation, and into the dawn of a new day.