Jurassic Dead (10 page)

18.

Aboard Oil Tanker Hammond-1, En route to Adranos Island

“Alex is safe,” Veronica assured Marcus. “I saw him, even though he was escorted away during your…incident, he should be fine.”

“Check…on him later?” Marcus was still shaking and Veronica looked around and grabbed a blanket.

“Of course. Now, you need to rest. You’re in shock, and I don’t need a medical license to figure that out.”

Marcus groaned as she covered him and he held the stump of his arm, looking at the bandages. “It hurts…Oh God, it’s like a colony of ants gnawing away at where my hand used to be, and I still feel every bite.”

Veronica stood up, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I just…I wish I could help more but I’ve got another mission, as you must know.”

“A different sort of license, I imagine.” Marcus nodded, and motioned to the door. “Go, I’ll live. I think.”

“Okay, but I’ll be back.”

“And if you see Alex…”

“I’ll send him over, trust me.”

Marcus let out a long sigh, garbled with fluid. “This… You have to stop them. If that
T. rex
really is alive and if it’s…I don’t know, carrying something. A plague or…”

He held up his stump again. “You have to call in the major players, here, Doc. Army, CDC at least. Who do you work for? Please tell me you have connections.”

She looked at him, and her expression darkened. He was right, of course, but making her handlers understand that there might be something even bigger than the DeKirk target here? “I do, but just what do I say? There’s a very-much-alive dinosaur drugged up on a boat here, headed toward some island for god-knows-what purpose?” She frowned a moment, thinking of the programs she had seen on Xander’s computer. “Shit, maybe he wants to go all
Jurassic Park
on it, and clone the thing and create—”

“An amusement park? Unlikely,” Marcus said, “doesn’t seem DeKirk’s style.”

“It isn’t. I was going to say, either he creates a preserve and sells them off to rich bastards like Kim Jong II, collector types who would spare no expense, tossing chump change to board a flight to the moon or hop on a living dinosaur…”

“That’s one possibility.”

“Yeah, the somewhat more benign one. The other is that he somehow weaponizes this thing, a plague as you said, or a clone army or just… hell if I know. I know DeKirk hired Xander, and Xander has a history of using bio-agents for nefarious purposes, but still, I need to think about what to say to get help out here.”

“Make it up,” Marcus said, coughing up a little blood on the blanket.

“What?”

“Make something up. Say—and this might not be far from the truth—that someone on board got infected with what might be a strain of never-before seen virus, and for now, it’s contained on this boat, but for the fate of the world, etc. etc., it can’t be allowed off until everything’s been analyzed.”

Veronica thought for a moment. “You’re right. It’s our best bet, because shit, everything else just vaulted way above my pay grade.”

Marcus nodded, his eyelids flickering. Coughed again, then looked like he was about to pass out as Veronica went for her bag—and the satellite phone—when all of a sudden, the ship’s alarm rang out.

Shrill and penetrating, Marcus almost screamed and Veronica jumped as the intercom crackled in between alarm pulses.

“Attention all
crew, prepare for major storm bearing down from the southwest. High winds, high seas expected. Brace for impact!
”

19.

Aboard Oil Tanker Hammond-1, En route to Adranos Island

Alex awoke as the freezing rain pelted his face, and he felt the strong hands dragging him along the upper deck. He shook his head, tasting blood. Hopefully, his nose wasn’t broken and he didn’t have a concussion, but that fist hurt like an anvil to his skull. He struggled but found his wrists were tied together with a plastic tether.

“Damn,” he muttered, shaking off the rain to see through the gloom of the meager flickering lights on deck. They were passing the cargo hold—the doors closing now in advance of the rain. One more glimpse of the monstrous thing below, still tranquilized and motionless except for the rocking of the ship, and then the men hauled Alex past, and up to another level. He glanced over his shoulder, past the two goons carrying him.

“Ah, Captain!” He spat out blood and rainwater. “So, what’s it to be, back to the brig? Or…” He eyed the ledge. “Is this a plank walk?”

The captain’s face lit up in a shrieking bout of lightning. “Option B. Sorry, mate, you don’t get any second chances after the stunt you pulled.”

Alex tried to laugh. “Okay, so maybe it’s like the old days, and I’m to be sacrificed to the ocean spirits to stop the storms and save the ship.”

“That too,” the captain chuckled and nodded to the others, who pressed Alex against the ledge. He looked out over the blackness beyond, and with his eyes still stinging from the lightning strike, he couldn’t make out anything.

“Any chances we’re close to that island y’all have been steering toward?”

“Not close enough for you,” the captain shouted back over the peal of distant thunder. “No hard feelings, but—”

Just then, a horrifying, primal scream cut through the wind and the storm. It came from down the next stairwell, the stairs leading to the cargo hold. Everyone froze, and the captain took a step into the well. The light down there flickered, and then went out, just as gunshots fired out.

“Shit!” the captain yelled and pulled his own sidearm.  “Leave the kid,” he ordered, “and get over here!”

The goons shoved him into a wall where Alex crumpled.

He shook it off and then stood, rooted to the spot in fear. Saved from a watery grave—for the moment—but what was down there? Horrific screams and rending sounds split the air, and then more gunshots and cries of panic.

The captain’s voice echoed from below as Alex took a tentative step forward, enough to peer down into the gloom. Lanterns or flashlights must have been in use, at the far end perhaps, where the
T. rex
(hopefully) still slumbered. Whatever this was, Alex thought, it was definitely smaller and less catastrophic than a rampaging dinosaur, but chillingly, it might be just as deadly.

He backed away as he saw something with yellowish scaly skin and bloodstained teeth dart into the path of the light for just a moment, and in that moment, Alex recognized the features—it was the crewman who had been trying to restrain the
T. rex
, the man who had been gouged and kicked across the room.

The dead man.

He came into view and snapped his head up and around, as if sniffing the air. His eyes settled on Alex—and he snarled, tensed, and then leapt for the stairs.

Alex rocked back, slipped and fell hard on the slick grating as the crewman launched himself to the top stair.  A double split of jagged lightning tore across the clouds to his right and over the crewman’s head, highlighting for Alex his first full-on bright view of what he had seen down in the Russian pit:
Zombie
was all he could think, all his mind could fathom, but even that didn’t do it justice. This was no run-of-the-mill Romero or
Walking Dead
shambling thing, this was a prehistoric-skinned mash-up between human and reptile, with yellow, slitted eyes, a tough-scaled almost leathery skin, sharper, longer teeth, and fingers the size of Ginsu knives. The talon-like nails clicked and scraped on the metal banister. The mouth—with extra rows of incisors bursting through the bloody, stringy gums and flesh from a recent kill—opened and hissed, the long tongue protruding and tasting the rainwater.

I’m dead,
was Alex’s second thought as terror flooded through his veins and rooted him to the spot. The thing tensed and was about to leap onto him when two gunshots rang out and holes burst through the zombie’s chest, exiting and striking the railing right over Alex’s head.

The creature paused and looked down at its wounds, snarled and turned back toward the staircase.

The captain’s voice shouted up—pained and gargled as if coming from a ruptured throat. Alex imagined the captain dragging himself along, getting off a few more shots before—

The zombie hissed and darted incredibly fast back down the stairs, its clanging feet reverberating in the hold. Another gunshot, a cry of pain and then…

Silence.

Thunder rumbled and the rain beat down harder. Alex finally found his energy and crawled forward, sliding across the pooling water, brushing it away from his eyes as he followed the source of the light, down in the hold, past the stairs where a few lanterns and flashlights lay unmoving.

He found a vantage point, held his breath and strained to see.

Nothing at first, just an outline or two that resolved into bodies. One, the crewman he had just seen, lying sprawled on the last few stairs—all but his head, which had been nearly blown off, just a grisly mass of gore seeping from the top half after what must have been a headshot from the Captain.

The captain,
where—?

Alex saw movement not too far from the dead zombie thing. The big form of the captain shifting, sitting, getting up from a prone position. Rising.

Alex couldn’t see his face, only the body. The arms at his side. One hand still holding the gun, but only for a moment as it listlessly slipped from fingers that suddenly and quickly flexed and cracked and appeared to grow in length.

A hissing sound came from somewhere in that darkness, and before Alex could think of backing away, the captain moved in a burst of inhuman speed and was at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at him, sniffing the air.

His now-yellow dragon-like-like eyes focused and sharpened, and his mouth, over the gaping gash and bite marks in his neck, opened wide, revealing immense teeth and a ragged tongue. He gripped the railing and vaulted up in seconds, reaching for Alex.

20.

Aboard Oil Tanker Hammond-1, En route to Adranos Island

Veronica raced out into the storm, holding up her waterproof satellite phone and hoping for the best, but knowing that out here, in this weather, it wasn’t going to be possible to get a signal. She’d have to rush to the bridge, get help from the captain and hope to raise someone on ship-to-shore communications, but before she could take another step, and then she saw activity near the cargo hold.  

“Alex?”

Speaking of the captain—there he was now, lurching out of the cargo hold stairwell, moving…damn fast for a big guy, and bearing down on Alex who appeared to be bound at the wrists.

What the hell…?

She ran, shouting, and then vaulted over a railing onto the deck. She saw Alex get in a double-fisted punch at the captain’s face—which apparently had no effect, and then he ducked and rolled away from a backhand swipe that instead connected with the ship’s metal ductwork, denting it severely. The captain’s head spun around—to Alex, and then to her—his nostrils sniffing the air. Veronica froze. A lightning burst riddling the sky lit up his features, revealing nothing like what she had expected: thick, putrid scales on his face, seething yellow eyes and a mouthful of razors dripping crimson.

She felt a pit of primal fear open in her throat, rooting her to the spot. No weapon, nothing except for a syringe and a bunch of bandages. She was dead, she knew. Only option was to run, but…

“Hey!” Alex shouted over the thunder. He had maneuvered back around and was half in the stairwell, a length of broken metal piping in his two handed grip—banging it on the floor. Distracting the captain.

It worked, and saved Veronica, but in the next instant, the captain had moved effortlessly fast, closing the gap and reaching for Alex. The kid dropped just in time down into the hold, and the captain—or whatever he was now—leapt in after him.

Veronica paused only a fraction of a second before her training kicked in.
Assess
.
Adapt
.
Improvise...

She had promised Alex’s father she’d look out for him. Anyway, she kind of liked the kid.

#

Alex struck the ground hard just beyond the gore from the first crewman’s head, then rolled into the shadows and out again, toward the light. A flashlight was on its side, and in the beam of light—the captain’s sidearm, a big hefty .45.

Alex lunged for it even as he heard the captain landing on the floor behind him, his feet crunching with a sickening sound into the other body.

Hurry…

Alex grabbed the gun, felt it slip in his bound hands, and heard the pounding footsteps.
Notgoingtomakeit…

He rolled again and again, then got on his back, straightened his grip and fired toward the shadowy, snarling blur. Two hard recoils and deafening retorts.

The captain, only a foot away, staggered with each impact. Straightened and took a step back. In the dim lantern’s glow, Alex saw that both shots had connected, but not where they needed to be. His shoulder and his sternum had big bloody holes punched through them, and maybe for a moment, the captain—or what was left of his consciousness—recalled that
this should hurt
, but it didn’t and when it didn’t, he growled and tensed and—

Alex saw a blur behind him, a flash of blonde hair and a whistling sound as Veronica swung hard and down with the metal piping Alex had dropped. It connected hard across the captain’s skull, spinning his head around.

It didn’t stop him. Veronica backed up, pipe raised in a two-handed sword grip. The captain shook his head, drooled another thick line of syrupy blood, and then advanced. Veronica swung and clocked him again, dodging out of the way as she caved in his nose. He turned and just growled and shook his head, and opened his jaws wider, revealing even more jagged incisors.

“What the hell are you?” was all she could yell, as fear and incredulity lowered her guard. The captain saw his chance and leapt at her—

He never made it. One shot. Alex had it all lined up, and this time he didn’t miss, blasting a perfect hole into and through the captain’s right temple. The big man dropped, lights out, as if he had been a robot and someone had just killed his power supply.

The body twitched once on the floor, face down in front of Veronica, and then lay still. In a moment, gathering her wits, she stood up, glancing around nervously. “Any more of those fuckers?”

Alex waved the gun around, looking at the three other bodies. One with brains exploded, two others with so many bite marks and rabid devouring it looked as if the first zombie had nearly eaten every last bit of exposed flesh—including cracking open the skull and eating the prize inside.

“I think we’re good,” he said, “for now.”

She stared at him, lowering the metal rod. “Zombies?”

Alex nodded. “Goddamn
prehistoric
zombies.”

“How?” she whispered.

Then they both stopped and turned, looking toward the slumbering
T. rex
. Alex thought about telling her about the lake, the microbes, and the floating dinosaur submerged in the muck with all those primitive microorganisms for millions of years, but figured he’d leave the speculation to brighter minds, like his dad’s.

“I think,” Veronica said, pointing at the gun, “you’d better shoot that thing in the head now. Just to be sure. No idea how long those tranq’s are going to last, and I don’t know about you, but I have no wish to be up against an undead one of…whatever those are.”

Alex nodded and moved closer, taking aim at the T. rex’s head. He paused, and considered telling her there were two more big reptiles—the
Cryolophosaurs
, somewhere around here in a shipping container. Probably in the next hold. “Wish my father was here. I have no idea where the brain is in this thing’s head.”

“Heard it’s small, like a walnut,” Veronica said. “At least, that’s what I remember from high school.”

“Great.” Alex shrugged, eyeing a head that was the size of a compact car. “What if I miss and it just wakes up pissed off?”

Veronica took a few steps back, toward the stairs, just as a wave pitched at the ship. The metal joints creaked and the
T. rex
slid hard, platform and all, into the side wall. It stirred, groaned, and turned its snout.

“Now,” Veronica called. “Do it…”

Alex regained his balance as a flood washed in over his feet, spilling in from the stairwell and the splitting joints. Water suddenly burst from a seam behind the creature, and then another spout erupted from his left, blinding him.

“Shoot!”

He squeezed the trigger, and a section of the thing’s snout blew out. “Damn.” He aimed again, a little higher. “You know it would help if you could cut my wrists free.” He took a breath and tried to steady his aim. “I also just had a bad thought. With the captain dead, who’s piloting this thing…?”

He turned back in the silence, and saw why she hadn’t answered.

Veronica’s back was to him, her hands raised in the air. “Uh, Alex…”

Xander was on the stairs. Holding an M5 submachine gun on them. “Drop the gun, kid. If you take one more shot at my prize, you and her are dead meat.”

Alex swore and was about to drop the gun when the boat pitched again. He saw Veronica lurch backward while Xander held on for dear life. The
T. rex
groaned and Alex heard something that sounded like breaking chains just before the tortured grating noise of the hull splitting open. He was thrust across the room into a wall that suddenly broke apart as he struck it—letting in thousands of gallons of ocean, swirling, pulling, and tugging him under and out.

Everything spun into the black maelstrom and his thoughts drowned with his screams.