Eviskar Island (26 page)

“I don’t remember this,” Jocelyn noted with dismay.

“Me neither.”  Jack paused to look around.  “We’re too far north.  The wide area where we want to cross is thataway.”  He pointed toward the blackest, densest part of the swamp.

“You want to go through that?” she exclaimed.

“It can’t be that far.  The valley opens up down there.  Trust me.”

“But what about, you know…creepy crawlies?  Who knows which is worse, Endicott or whatever lives here.”

He took her hand.  “Are you coming or not?”  He took a step forward and as if on cue a huge dragonfly whizzed above them and lit on a rotting stump a few yards away.  Undaunted, they slogged through muck and shallow pools of foul-smelling stagnant water.  Their feet made loud sucking noises with every step, the mud slowing progress to a slow walk.  The air was so thick and humid it was hard to breathe.

Jocelyn was petrified.  As the forest grew darker and darker because of the thick claustrophobic overhanging canopy, she began to shiver with fear.  She clung tenaciously to Jack’s arm.  After all she’d been through in this primitive world, it was this place, this dark, gloomy, fetid morass that had finally extracted primal fear from deep within her psyche.

Jack wasn’t exactly enjoying the landscape either, but he marshaled a calm, brave façade for Jocelyn’s sake.  “Jossy, I haven’t thanked you yet for saving my life back there.”  He gave her a hug.

She smiled, “You know I got your back, Jack.”

“That kick you delivered to Endicott’s head—that really got his attention.  It was awesome.”

“Those tae kwon do lessons I took as a kid finally paid off.”

“Yeah,” he pointed at her sore toe, “that second kick didn’t go so well though, huh?”

“Hey, I had a couple of lessons; I didn’t say I was a black belt.”

“Too bad.”

“Yes,” she sighed, “it really is too bad.”

Another dragon fly buzzed past.  It flicked left, crossing their path, ultimately settling on a low-lying moss-covered branch.  Both students were awed by the huge insect.  Seeing one up close like this was truly breathtaking.  Enough muted sunlight fought its way through heavy cloud, forest canopy and water-laden swamp air to reveal the bug’s dazzling colors.  Its foot-long wings shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow as light diffracted off of their delicate membranes.

“It’s so beautiful,” admired Jocelyn.  “I guess there’s beauty even in a place like this.  When you least expect…”

The pool beneath the dragon fly suddenly erupted, and an odd-looking animal launched itself out of the water.  A long tongue shot out from an enormous head and plucked the giant insect off of its perch.   The attacker fell back into the water with a resounding splash and then climbed out onto a large log to savor its meal.

“Ahhhh…!” Jocelyn freaked.  She jumped into the arms of a surprised Jack, nearly making him fall into the mire.

“Jossy, let go.  It’s just a…some sort of dragon fly-eating…something or other.”  He peeled her arms from around his neck and helped set her back on her feet.  They watched in fascination as this weird-looking life form, this creature from the black lagoon, devoured its prey.

Curiosity overcame her fear as Jocelyn scrutinized this newest of prehistoric beasts.  “Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit,” she muttered in amazement.  “Man that thing is ugly.  If I had a dog looked like that, I’d shave his ass and teach him to walk backwards.”

To the 21
st
century mind the creature was, as Jocelyn so eloquently stated, ‘butt ugly.’  The head was large and frog-like, but behind stocky forelegs its body tapered sharply.  The hind quarters were small and it sported a long, lizard-like tail.  Overall it was a very, very peculiar-looking organism.  It chewed slowly and with its mouth open.  One could make out rows of short but very sharp teeth crushing the dragonfly’s exoskeleton with an audible crunch every time it closed its jaws.  Jack and Jocelyn stood transfixed until the creature was done with its meal.  Cold, primitive eyes stared back.  By and by the animal tired of watching the two funny-looking strangers.  It uttered a guttural trilling noise and bounded from its log back into the pool.  Using its tail for propulsion, it swam, snake-like, until it was out of sight.

“I’m gettin’ outta here,” Jocelyn swore.  She picked up the pace and marched forward with purpose.  Brandishing her spear, slogging through the syrupy muck, she announced, “Any of you swamp critters try to mess with me, I’ll gig you, batter you up and fry you Cajun-style.  Got it?!”

Jack was impressed.  He followed his partner, and her new-found courage, until they were out of the swamp and onto a flat fern-laden stretch of river bank.

XIV.

The water was deep, slow moving.  Jocelyn stopped marching.  She turned and met Jack’s gaze.  Both knew what had to happen.  Jack was going swimming.

Urgency compelled them to hurry.  Jack took a deep breath and let it out.  There was no use stalling for time; he was as ready as he’d ever be.  Jocelyn took his hand and led him hip-deep into the river.  The current was insistent but gentle.  She explained that they would be carried a slight distance downstream, but not to let it bother him.  She then quickly went over the rules, telling Jack what she needed him to do: relax, tilt your head back, keep your arms straight and let me do the work.

“Let’s do it,” he said without hesitation.

Jack beamed from ear to ear as he sloshed onto the far bank.  Jossy had been right; he’d done exactly as he’d been told and they’d crossed without a hitch.  She leaned forward to kiss him, but never got the chance.  Jack grabbed her arm, pulled her from the beach, and headed for the safety of the forest.  Looking back, she saw the reason for his behavior.  Loren Endicott had just appeared on the far bank.

Stumbling through the sand, Jocelyn followed Jack into the underbrush, but before they were lost from sight she looked back again and her eyes locked on to those of their pursuer.

The expression on Jocelyn’s face troubled Endicott.   Her stare was hard, almost challenging.  It was contrary to what he’d expected.  Apparently the students were no longer afraid of him.  Respectful?  Yes—or they would have held their ground and stayed to fight.  If they felt they’d have the advantage in open combat, they’d have dug their heels in the sand and attempted to bring this situation to an end.  Things were different now, though.  The rules had changed.  Endicott had his work cut out for him.

“Well then,” he thought as he stepped into the muddy water, “Let the chase begin.”

* * *

Cascading down the slope of a towering coastal mountain was the field of boulders that had forced the three students to move south and into the valley three days earlier.  Crossing it was a must, and the terrain was as rugged as Spencer had ever seen.  But the reward was great.  On the other side lay a long but gentle walk uphill to the cliff where Marcie and Debbie were trapped.

The view from this side was sobering and impressive.  Rocks of unimaginable size were strewn about forming an impassible barrier.  There was nothing to do but to strike out downhill and search for some path where he could slip through.  Compounding Spencer’s dilemma was a second significant obstacle.  The sound of rushing water coming from under the boulder field promised more trouble for the young man.  “This is great,” he muttered, “anotha stream crossing.  ‘An this one sounds like it’s gonna be a bitch ‘an a half.”

Yet a third major difficulty soon presented itself.  Spencer had already dropped more than five hundred feet in altitude.  Hot, wet fog-enshrouded vegetation had suddenly appeared around him.  He now had to be ever more alert to the sounds and movement around him.  As he continued to move closer to the valley, a large stream emerged from within the rocks and it thundered past just off to his right. 

As the ground became less steep, the boulders thinned out.  Spencer began looking intently for some sort of natural bridge to get across, but nothing presented itself.  Although tall trees now lined both sides of the torrential stream, none had fallen across in any useful way.

He stopped briefly to rest and assess his situation.  Squatting beside a calm eddy he filled his water bottle.  It was beginning to look as though he would have to travel all the way to the valley, to where the water was calm at the spot where he and the others had swum across before.  He was reluctant to do that.  Such a large detour meant he wouldn’t make it back to the cliff until tomorrow.

A small cynodont appeared from within a stand of horsetails downstream and ran past him.  The smaller ones were numerous around here.  They seemed to live amongst the boulders and scree that merged with thick foliage.  Another ran past and then a third, reminding Spencer of rabbits running from a fox.

The thought made Spencer look up with a start.  Something was chasing them.  Suddenly he heard it, a high-pitched grunt.  The sound of its presence had been masked by the roar of the stream.  He turned and panic gripped him.  He had just enough time to grab his spear before the first of two lizard wolves rushed him.

Spencer stumbled into the creek.  The nearest lizard wolf lunged at him, narrowly missing his leg.  Spencer awkwardly thrust at its face with the spear, driving it back.  The second animal moved around the first, trying to attack his flank.  For creatures as primitive as these, their hunting methods were amazingly well developed.  There was little Spencer could do.  He flailed away with his small spear, first slashing at one attacker and then the other, repulsing well-coordinated rushes that were becoming ever more aggressive.  The lizard wolves knew they had him cornered.  Instinct told them success was imminent.

Spencer wasn’t about to admit defeat.  Sure, he couldn’t hold them at bay much longer, but he knew he could end the standoff at any time by simply diving into the turbulent water behind him.  Given what he’d been through during his last stream crossing, however, he also knew his odds of surviving another such dunking were only slightly better than a fight to the death with two blood-thirsty lizard wolves.  But that’s exactly what he’d do if there were no other way out.

His attackers didn’t appear to be particularly fond of water.  As Spencer backed away from his foes and into the shallows, he was surprised, and much relieved, to find that they refused to do more than get their feet wet.  Whether it was the water itself or the strong current that acted as deterrent wasn’t apparent, but whichever it was, Spencer found that he had a narrow safe zone in which to stand: far enough away from the long, snapping jaws of his tormentors, but not so far into the stream that the current could sweep him from his feet.

In much the same way his grandfather walked on slender I-beams high above the streets of Manhattan, Spencer carefully began to negotiate his way downstream, mindful that to slip on a moss-covered rock would end his life at the hands of either current or predator.  He was heading for a bend in the stream where tall conifers lined both banks.  Progress was slow but steady, and it gave the young man ample time to consider the details of a new escape plan.  An idea had come to mind, one that would not only save him from being eaten by his two new friends, but, in addition, would solve the problem of how to cross the stream.

* * *

“We can’t out run him, Jack.”

Her companion nodded grimly, but there wasn’t anything they could do except push on.  For the past hour they’d been engaged in a high-stakes game of cat and mouse.  Moving uphill at what had been a relentless pace, the two students were unable to shake their pursuer.

Endicott was like a wolf, biding his time, patiently waiting for his prey to falter.  Once they tired or become entrapped by some insurmountable natural obstacle, he would seize the advantage and move in for the kill.

For the most part they’d been easy to track.  The soil near the river was moist and soft; their footprints were so well defined he could read the imprint of the Reebok logo in those left by Jocelyn.  At one point he’d almost lost their trail.  When they’d moved up a rocky slope with no discernable game trail or path to follow, they’d almost gotten away.  Disaster had been avoided, however, when the two had spooked a herd of small cynodonts from a grove of horsetails directly upslope from him.

But it didn’t matter, really.  They were headed for the cliff face where their two beleaguered colleagues were awaiting rescue.  He’d considered taking a shortcut, swiftly moving to the cliff, dispatching the two women who were there, and then lying in wait to ambush Jack and Jocelyn.  But that alternative carried with it the risk, albeit very small, that the two older students might detour towards the coast and attempt to go for help.  After all, there wasn’t much they could do to save Debbie; they needed outside assistance.

Endicott rubbed his cheek.  It was painful and swollen.  He cautiously probed the teeth at the back of his upper jaw with his tongue.  Ouch!  One of the molars was chipped and the nerve was exposed.  It throbbed in rhythm with his heartbeat.  Jocelyn, that bitch, would pay for kicking him.  Her death wouldn’t be a pleasant one; he would see to that.  The pain instilled in him anger and a need for vengeance.  “It won’t be long, my friends,” he muttered through clenched teeth, “not long at all.”

Jocelyn and Jack’s worst fears were realized when they broke into a small clearing.  Before them lay a sheer rock wall.  To either side was heavy vegetation.  They had no real choice but to backtrack and go around the obstacle, but that option was risky.  Endicott was right on their heels.

“C’mon, Jossy, let’s go this way.” Jack motioned for her to follow, but instead, she planted her butt on a rock and looked at him.

“And exactly where will ‘this way’ take us?”

“Uphill, towards the cliff.”

“Like I said, we can’t out run him, at least I can’t.  I’m going to stay and fight, and this is as good a spot as any.”

“Jossy, you can’t…”

“You don’t know me, Jack.  I’m pissed, and when I get mad I’m tougher than a two-dollar steak.  I aim to put some major hurt on that son-of-a-bitch.  Even if he guts me with that pig-sticker of his, I’ll make him pay.  He won’t be of a mind to hurt you, Marcie or Debbie when I get through with him.”

Jack stood and stared at her.  He was overwhelmed by both her beauty and her bravery.  She was right.  All they accomplished by running was to delay the inevitable.  It was best to confront Endicott before he got anywhere near their two companions, and as she’d just said, this was as good a place as any for a showdown.  “Let’s do it,” he said grimly.  She smiled and walked to where he stood.  Overcome with emotion, Jack took her in his arms and held her tightly.  God, how he wanted to take her away from here, to end the nightmare that threatened her.  He couldn’t imagine Endicott harming this girl with whom he’d fallen in love.

Abruptly she gave him a quick kiss and pulled away.  “You stand there,” she ordered, pointing to a spot about fifteen feet away.  She brandished her spear.  “If he attacks one of us, the other can flank him.”

Moments later, Dr. Loren Endicott broke into the clearing.

* * *

“Only a few more feet,” Spencer told himself as he neared the pine forest.  The water was a bit calmer here; he could stand knee deep without fear of being washed downstream.  A third lizard wolf had joined the others, and all three were pacing back and forth on the bank, grunting excitedly while eyeing their prey that stood only a few feet away.

Spencer was getting cold.  He was standing in snow melt.  The water temperature was barely above freezing, and it relentlessly sucked heat from his skinny frame.  His teeth chattered and his lips were blue.  Although he’d formulated a good plan, one he was quite proud of, there remained one problem.  He had to figure out a way of getting to shore and climbing the massive tree that seemed to beckon to him.  Its branches hung only yards away, but, in front of it, stood snarling hellhounds, their presence representing a gauntlet between him and sanctuary.

If his body temperature were to drop too far, Spencer feared his reflexes and strength might be compromised to such an extent that his plan might fail.  He had to think of a way to get into the tree, and the sooner the better.  He stared at the three snouts pointing in his general direction, saliva dripping from partially opened mouths, exposing evil-looking canine teeth.  The lizard wolves were leaning forward, moving their heads slowly from side to side, sampling the air for Spencer’s scent and growing more excited by the minute.

“That’s it!” Spencer exclaimed.  The solution to his problem flashed into his mind.  “Oh, you guys are gonna be so pissed when one ‘a your descendants fools your asses.”  Although he didn’t relish this latest idea, he knew it was foolproof.

Spencer untied the shirt from his belt.  After his last "swim," all of the blood it had acquired from his bloody nose was gone.  He reached down into the stream, grabbed a baseball-sized rock and tied the shirt around it.  Taking a deep breath, Spencer then gritted his teeth and drew the blade of his knife across the back of his left hand.

The cut wasn’t deep.  It wasn’t designed to be.  It took a moment for the wound to fill with blood, but soon Spencer was squeezing the incision and mopping up the blood with his shirt.  The lizard wolves went wild.  Their grunts increased to a fevered pitch.  The prey they had cornered in the stream now smelled a hundred times better.

Spencer inched towards his admirers with extreme caution.  Given their frenzied state he couldn’t rule out the possibility that one of them might charge toward him despite its fear of water.  Holding the shirt at arm’s length, he slowly swung it back and forth.  Like spectators at a tennis match, his adversaries followed the scent in rhythm.  It had a hypnotic effect.  So mesmerized were the lizard wolves that the grunting stopped; one hundred percent of their attention was fixed on the odor and position of Spencer’s shirt.