Island 731 (38 page)

Hawkins tried not to react. He’d guessed right about Bray, but didn’t mention Blok.

“You can try to hide what you’re thinking, but it’s nearly impossible.” Bennett looked Hawkins over. “For example. Your limp is fake. Which means you knew I was here. And here’s where it gets fun. You could have made a run for it. Maybe get back to the
Magellan
and escape. It’s what most people would do. But you came here”—he tapped the gun against Joliet’s head—“for her. Since arriving, you’ve looked at her more than me, despite me having a gun. You came knowing I was waiting for you. And prepared for you. Which means, and correct me if I’m wrong, that you’re in love with Joliet.”

Hawkins said nothing. Apparently, he didn’t need to.

“And given Joliet’s lack of surprise, not to mention how she wept earlier when I told her you were dead—that was a lie, by the way—I’d say the feeling was mutual. Of course, you both already knew that. But you’re both cowards, which is also interesting because when it comes to physical danger, you’re both somewhat reckless. And that brings us back to the here and now, with Hawkins risking not just his life, but also Bray’s in an attempt to save the damsel in distress. Where is Bray? Hiding in the bushes? Circling around the gallery for an ambush?”

Hawkins noted Bennett’s total lack of concern regarding both scenarios.

“How’d I do?” Bennett asked. “Pretty accurate, right?”

Hawkins quickly scanned the area, looking for Bennett’s trap. He saw nothing but the dull, gray concrete of the gallery wall, its soot-rimmed entryway, and jungle all around. Nothing. But his sensitive ears picked up the distant staccato chop of approaching helicopters. He spoke loudly, hoping to drown out the sound until it was too late. “So you’re conducting social experiments, too, watching the reactions people have to your creations? I can actually understand how someone like you would need that kind of stimulation.”

“Someone like me?”

Hawkins didn’t know a lot about psychology, but understood human nature and could bullshit with the best of them. He needed to keep Bennett distracted so he used the information Kam had revealed about Bennett’s upbringing and launched into his prognosis of the man, doing his best to make it sound convincing. “You were born here. Raised by scientists, who, let’s admit, are generally obsessed with their work and don’t make for very loving parents. You were smart. Uncommonly smart. But you were still a child, and children need the love of their parents in order to thrive. Desperate for affection, you feigned an interest in your parents’ work. It sickened you. How could it not? You were a kid. But your parents were finally paying attention to you. Maybe celebrating your early accomplishments. Their recognition made you feel loved, probably for the first time in your screwed-up life, so you tried harder. Pushed further. And with each success, you felt an outpouring of affection. Each successful experiment was followed by a rush of dopamine. After a few years, the experiments alone provided an intense feeling of love. No need for praise from Mommy and Daddy.

“When you hit puberty, your mind began to release gobs of hormones and chemicals and you actually started to get off from your experiments. The more horrific, the bigger the thrill. Eventually, your addiction began to make the other scientists, including your parents, afraid. So you pulled away. You didn’t need them anymore. You could get your rocks off all by yourself. But then something happened. Maybe they confronted you. Maybe you overheard a conversation.”

Bennett’s eyes twitched.

“That’s what it was. Who was it? Your parents, right? They used to be so proud and now they wanted, what? To kick you off the island? Lock you up? Kill you?”

Bennett twitched again.

God, no wonder the kid went off the deep end.

“So you killed most everyone here, including Mom and Dad, except for the staff that could help with your experiments, and Kam because you were raised together, like brothers, and he never publicly judged you. Or maybe because you knew how much he feared—”

“Enough!” Bennett shouted. All traces of humor had vanished from his face.

“How’d I do?” Hawkins asked, mimicking the way Bennett had asked the question. “Pretty accurate, right?”

As the words came out of his mouth, Hawkins knew he’d gone too far. He watched as Bennett’s left hand came up, the small, black remote clutched in his fingers.

Pulse, pulse, pulse
.

Hawkins spun, looking for an attack. But he saw nothing. Just a line of trees, some brush, and a prickly-looking bush, like a cactus with long spines.

Black and white spines.

Like a porcupine.

That’s when he noticed that the spiky bush, which had been there all along, was breathing. The huge form shifted and Hawkins found himself staring into the rectangular pupils of Kaiju, the strange beast.

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.